A Rose That Thrives in Darkness
by Confused Scribe
Summary: The Persian gave Erik the gift of a young bride. Her name: Nasrin, known as Fire Rose. Upon learning of Christine, she begins to vie for Erik's love, mad with loneliness. What happens when her small tricks turn into a deadly game of life and death?
1. A Gift of Flesh and Blood

A Rose That Thrives in Darkness

Summary: The Persian gave Erik the gift of a young bride. Her name is Nasrin, known as Fire Rose. After learning of Christine, she begins to vie for the Phantom's love, mad with loneliness. But what happens when her small tricks turn into a deadly game of life and death?

Shade: Hello and welcome to my second POTO fic! (raves). I don't own POTO or anything along those lines. The play lyrics are copyright of Andrew Lloyd Webber . . . WHY CAN'T I OWN THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! (cries) (regains composure) All right, I'm better now. Oh, and if you have any questions or comments at all throughout this story . . . please, review and let me know. Enjoy!

"_Pity comes too late_

_Turn around and face your fate_

_An eternity of this_

_Before your eyes._" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 1: A Gift of Flesh and Blood

Erik played his organ loudly, drowning out the sound of dripping water and the squeaking of rats. The powerful chords boomed out into the corridors of the labyrinth as a musical warning. Benign as the music was, Erik was far from kindly. His face was twisted in a ruthless scowl as he pounded on the organ keys, his white mask glowing orange in the dim light. A dried piece of parchment lay in front of his eyes, darkened with musical notes. The candlelight played deceptively on its yellow surface.

"Almost done," he muttered to himself. His voice emerged hoarse. It had been days since he last spoke aloud. But he paid no heed. He merely dipped his quill in ink and carefully placed more notes on the page. It was almost completely filled with a complicated, yet astounding piece. Erik's blue eyes surveyed it in triumphant satisfaction, as if he conquered and destroyed the greatest barrier known to mankind.

When he was finished, he smiled warmly at his written creation. It was beautiful to him, though the edges were burned and there were sparse patches of ink dots on the side.

"It is perfect. I have completed it at last." He dipped the quill in ink again and scribbled down in dark cursive, "Don Juan Triumphant." He grinned at the piece and the orange candlelight twirled and danced in his deep blue eyes.

Just then, Erik heard the sound of an oar caressing the surface of the lake. He peered at the door to his lair and saw his boat being guided to its homeport, a man hunched guardedly over something as he rowed. Erik, bemused, opened the final gate, allowing the small boat to finish its course. He watched as the man leaped from the boat and walk up to him.

"Erik, I hope I haven't disturbed you." The Persian's familiar voice caused Erik to settle.

"Hello daroga. What brings you here uninvited?" His voice was soft, yet sharp with agitation.

"I have brought you something that I think you will love. A present if you will," the Persian said, humbled before the dangerous man.

"Oh? What kind of present could you possibly give to me?"

"You will see in a moment. It is somewhat a present to manifest my respect for you."

Erik seemed pleased by this long overdue tribute to his genius. "Proceed at will, daroga."

The Persian bowed, his astrakhan hat shifting on his head. "Monsieur, I know you are lonely down here in this lair. I have brought for you a companion." He motioned towards the boat.

In the flickering candlelight, Erik could see something thrashing on the floor of his boat. He cocked his eyebrows, intrigued. "Go on," he murmured.

"Well, I brought you-"

"Daroga, look!" Erik cried, whipping towards the boat.

The Persian stopped speaking and looked towards the small ship. A figure, bound and chained leaped off the side and into the water, immediately becoming submerged.

"Damn it!" the Persian roared, stumbling over to the ship and leaping into the water. He soon disappeared into the inky black depths. Erik looked on with concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

Soon, the Persian erupted from the water, clutching a figure tightly under his arm. The shape lashed out, but made no sound and uttered no cry; the ferocity of its thrashing made Erik look on with bemusement.

"Forgive me, Monsieur. This gift certainly has spirit." His eyes widened. "Your parchment!"

Erik looked down at his musical score he still clutched in his fist. In all the commotion, he had let his parchment become too close to a candle. Already, most of his beloved masterpiece was naught but ashes.

"No!" Erik roared. He ran to the river with the paper still smoldering in his fist. He immediately thrust the paper into the water, extinguishing the small blaze. When Erik pulled the score to the surface, he gave a cry of dismay. Don Juan Triumphant was nothing more than soggy parchment and smeared ink. He crumpled the destroyed remains of his work in his fist and wielded on the Persian.

"Whatever you are giving to me, daroga, it was what caused this and I want it out of my home right now!" His face was flushed in indignation.

"Will you at least listen to what I brought you," the Persian pleaded.

"Fine, what did you bring me?" Erik asked in an irate drawl.

The Persian shoved the figure into the candlelight. It crashed to the floor and gave a small cry as its head struck the rock.

Erik kneeled down and turned the figure's head to him. He was met with a pair of fiery blue-green eyes and pursed pink lips. He had never seen more hostility in a gaze before.

"May I present to you, Monsieur, your gift. I have given you the gift of a virgin bride."

Well there you have it, the introduction. How did you like it? –Shade


	2. Fiery Rose

"_He's there:_

_The Phantom of the Opera. _

_Beware,_

_The Phantom of the Opera._" –The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 2: Fiery Rose

Erik looked once more at the girl. Dark, sooty lashes framed her bright eyes and her hair fell in loose black curls down to her knees. Her skin was shimmering liquid copper and her slender frame was tensed in his presence. She was sopping wet from the lake and she shivered, her white teeth chattering involuntarily.

"A bride?" Erik repeated distantly.

"Yes, I brought her from my homeland. She was engaged to my brother, but sadly he has passed on. Since her family has already paid the dowry, I had to marry her off. She is a beautiful little flower isn't she?" The Persian touched her cheek. She lashed out and attempted to bite him. He withdrew quickly, her teeth only grazing his finger. "She's also a fiery demon. I thought she would amuse you."

"Amuse him! I am not a simple toy!" The young girl dared to speak.

Erik was taken aback. Her voice, though spiked with ire, was melodious.

"How dare you raise your voice to me! You are lucky I have already presented you to Erik or I would beat you!" The Persian raised his hand to strike her. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch in the slightest.

"You raise your hand to me as if I have never been struck before!"

Before the Persian could move, Erik grabbed the girl's face and yanked it towards him. She scowled at him, her beautiful eyes clouded with hate.

"What is your name, little demon?" he asked softly, seductively.

"Nasrin." Her reply was curt.

"Oh, no last name?" he asked mockingly.

"Not one that is worth my breath," she replied smoothly, attempting to mimic the seductive tone in his voice.

Erik looked up at Nadir. "Thank you, daroga. She will indeed amuse me. You have your leave to go now." He motioned towards the opening to the lair.

The Persian moved to protest when he saw the fire in Erik's eyes. Instead, he bowed deeply and rowed away, daring one look back at the two. They were frozen in place, watching him go. When he shrank into the distance, Erik glared at Nasrin.

"Now, let me untie you so that I am sure to have your complete attention. There are some rules I need to set down." He kneeled down and unbound her hands. They were swelled from poor circulation and her wrists were cut from the tight rope. When she was freed, she stumbled to her feet and stared down at Erik who tossed aside the rope.

"I don't live by guidelines given to me by men that live in caves," she seethed.

"You do now if you want to be my wife," he snapped.

A cynical laugh burst from her chest. "You imbecile. What makes you think I came here of my own will? Didn't you see me thrashing in the boat? Don't even delude yourself into thinking you can control me." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. She batted her dark lashes coyly and smiled.

"Your pitiful attempts at seduction fall upon cold stone, my dear." He grabbed her chin and pressed her nose against his. Immediately, the coy expression gave way to a look sharp with hate.

"Touch me again without my consent and I-"

"You'll what? You're in my domain now, Madame. Here, I am the king, and you: the loyal servant." He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper.

Nasrin's upper lip twitched in spite, but she remained silent. She shook with rage as she fought the urge to spit in his face.

"There now, you can be taught." Erik released her and began to walk away towards his organ.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To play my organ. Are those unnaturally pretty eyes of yours blind?" Erik snapped.

"Hn, a compliment coupled with an insult. You are new at banter, aren't you?" She crossed her arms and walked slowly towards him, her gold bracelets clinking together.

"I live in a labyrinth alone. What do you think, I practice arguing with myself?" he hissed.

"Well fix whatever problems that prevent you from showing yourself to the world! I don't want to live in a dank cave for the rest of my life!" She motioned to the slimy walls and the black lake.

"If you don't shut your mouth you won't have to deal with it much longer," he spat, pouring for himself a glass of red wine and swirling it in the chalice.

"I'm not even here an hour and already I've been given a death threat. I'm only saying that we need a house above ground, in the light. Raising a child in the darkness is no good if they know nothing else."

Erik, who had just begun to sip the wine calmly, spat it out as soon as a child was brought up. The crimson liquid splashed on the floor of the lair and he turned to her, eyes wide.

"Child! Are you out of your mind!"

Nasrin rolled her eyes disapprovingly before narrowing them again at him. "Look, I'm not thrilled with the idea of lying with you either. But I do believe that the point of marriage is procreation."

All the color drained from Erik's face before it became flushed with hatred. "If I were to ever father a child, it wouldn't be yours!"

Nasrin smirked and pursed her lips. "From what the daroga told me, you don't have much of a choice."

Erik's face contorted in loathing. "You defiant little devil! How dare you disrespect me!" He strode towards her angrily, his hand balled in a hard fist. When he reached her side, he halted, seeing no more defiance in her gaze. Her expression was solemn, yet irritated.

"Yes, that's right, strike me to avoid _your_ problems. That is what men do, don't they? Is that what I'm here for?"

Erik relaxed, his fist opening and falling to his side. He looked into her eyes. The glitter in her eyes caught his attention. She was surveying him, examining his every feature and analyzing it, then storing it in her memory for future use. "What a clever little girl you are. How old are you, my new bride?" He practically spat the words 'new bride.'

She peered up at him, her blue green eyes still darting. "I am sixteen years old. I will be seventeen in a few months."

"That's all? Where did all your guile come from?"

"One has to be on their guard when dancing at parties with drunken men," she replied simply.

"Oh, you are a love slave?" he conjectured.

Her face twisted and she slapped him hard across the face. He stumbled back, touching his wounded cheek.

"No! I am the famous Persian dancer known as the Fire Rose! Apparently, you are as moronic as you are conceded. Didn't you hear the daroga say that I am a _virgin_ bride? That means I haven't-"

"I know what virgin means!" he roared.

"All right, all right, no need to shout. And you're turning red, Phantom." She pointed to his face, which was colored scarlet.

"Don't call me Phantom," Erik growled.

"Then what should I call you, Monsieur?" she asked calmly.

"Erik."

"Just Erik? No last name?" Nasrin asked slyly.

Erik's eyes flickered with a hint of humor and a small grin twitched on his lips. He suppressed it with a snarl. "No last name."

"Very well, enough of this witty banter. I am very tired; I have traveled many miles today. Where do I sleep?" Her eyes looked up at him, wide with phony compassion.

"You will sleep on the floor for now, Nasrin," Erik replied absent mindedly as he sat on his organ bench and placed his hands on the keys.

"The floor!"

"Not the bare floor. I'll lay down some blankets for you. It would be in your best interest to watch out if you happen to complain much more; it's rather annoying and I know of only one way to permanently close loud mouths."

"So I believe," Nasrin murmured. "The Punjab lasso. It's what your famous for . . . or should I say infamous?"

"Infamous, I should say." He then fell silent.

"May I ask you a question?"

"I believe that answer is apparent."

"I mean would you mind?" Nasrin asked dramatically.

"No, but if you don't ask quickly, my patience will wane."

"You said that you wouldn't want to father my children in an odd way. The tone in your voice indicated that you had some other lady in mind. May I ask her name?"

Erik fell silent for a moment before turning to face the Persian girl. "Her name is Christine Daaé. She sings in the Opera above us. I probably should be going actually; she has a performance tonight as Elissa in Hannibal and I have a feeling it is going to be her greatest triumph. I want to be there to congratulate her. I am, after all, her teacher."

"Oh, all right then. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I want to bring her down here tonight. I don't want you seen by her."

Nasrin growled. "Fine! If you don't want me mothering your children, sleeping on your bed, or even being seen, I don't know what I'm doing here!" She stormed off towards another boat. "Ignorant, insolent, labyrinth dwelling hermit!"

"No you don't! You're not leaving with my only transport to Christine!" Erik stood up and rushed towards her.

"I'm not going to stay here and be ignored, you know!" Nasrin roared. "Or is this about your useless boat!"

"This is more about the boat. I know you won't leave me."

"Oh really? And what makes you so certain you know everything about me?" she challenged.

"Because . . . I don't know why. Something about you-"

"Oh don't even think that you can try to predict me. I doubt you'd get very far."

Erik stared deep into her eyes. "Try me."

Nasrin stormed up to him, her eyes alive with fire. When she reached him, she grabbed his cheeks and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Just as Erik began to get comfortable with the embrace, she brutally pushed him away again and stared triumphantly into his closed eyes.

"What was that?" he asked softly. He began to quiver, never before tasting the lips of another.

"Obviously not what you expected," she replied smoothly, her voice gentle and alluring. She brushed past him and walked slowly into the deeper parts of the lair. "Perhaps I'll stay down here a little while. After all, if I were to journey to the surface, I would have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I guess I'm stuck down here with a husband who doesn't want me."

"You intrigue me, Nasrin. You have something about you that makes me think to keep you."

"Will you stop referring to me as if I were a stupid animal!"

"You had better hope to whoever you pray to that my patience for your complaining doesn't die out, though. The only reason I am 'sharing in your company' is because there is something that I can't place with you. For now, I must be going, though, I don't want to miss a second of Christine's performance."

Erik walked over to the lapping fingers of the lake and leaped in the boat. As he pushed the small gondola into the darker recesses of the lake, he called back to her, "Make sure you are not seen when I return. I will try to bring the Angel of Music down here tonight. Farewell, Fire Rose." He disappeared around a bend in the lake quickly, with only the lapping sound of the oar echoing his departure.

Nasrin stood by the edge of the lake, her bare feet tingling in the cold water. She growled in fury and roared, "Fine! If you don't want me seen, I won't be!" She stormed to the back of his lair and cloaked herself in shadow, her eyes dark with hellish rage.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed:

**Maidenhair**: I hope this chapter answered at least some of your questions from the last chapter! If not, the rest will be revealed in time.

**phantominhell**: I'm glad you liked the first chappy. Good to hear from you again.

**Maska**: Hope you'll stay with it! I look forward to hearing feedback from you again.

**the phantom's cry**: Glad you like the concept. Physical descriptions get rather annoying after a while so I decided to leave this phantom to the imagination a little bit. Though when I speak of his deformity, it is more the 2004 movie than anything else. That is how I pictured him at least.

**Nota Lone**: Yeah, Nadir was pretty dark, just kinda giving away a girl like that. But that was how things were in the 1800's so it really wasn't that uncommon.

**Videociraptor**: Always with yayness to contribute! Thanks for reviewing! You are very yay! (glomps)


	3. The Forsaken Angel

"_Hearing is believing_

_Music is deceiving_

_Hard as lightning_

_Soft as candlelight._

_Dare you trust the music of the night?_" –The Music of the Night

Chapter 3: The Forsaken Angel

Nasrin waited in darkness. After some time passed, she could feel a change in the edifice above the cave. The faint trembling strains of a melody she couldn't quite hear mingled occasionally with an enormous swell of voices, but she couldn't distinguish the voice of any individual singer.

"How can he stand this?" she asked in frustration. "I will go crazy in a few weeks."

Then the singing stopped, and left her once again in silence. _The silence,_ she mused, _which presages his return_. With this thought a spark of jealousy ignited as she recalled their last conversation. Why was she jealous? She had no idea what was going on between Erik and this Christine Daaé.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a deep male voice. The resonance startled her, and she whipped around, half expecting someone to be beside her.

"_Look at your face in the mirror; I am there inside!_"

Nasrin's breath fled her. The voice was Erik's, though the voice in the cave had been a ghost of the one she was hearing now. It echoed through the corridors, and in her heart, she knew he was bringing Christine down to their home. Her blue green eyes flashed as she stepped back into shadow, awaiting their entry.

She heard their voices growing louder as the boat brought them closer. Erik's deep voice was a perfect foundation for Christine's trilling one. Nasrin had never heard a sound so angelic.

_No wonder I'm worth nothing in his eyes,_ she thought. _Compared to her, I'm nothing. I might as well grow a tail and rabbit ears. I'd look the same to him._ She stopped as their voices rose again.

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there/ here inside your/my mind!_"

Nasrin couldn't take it. She leaped out of shadow and cried in her best singing voice, "_He's there, the Phantom of the Opera! Beware: the Phantom of the Opera!_"

As the boat emerged into her view, she saw Erik's eyes dart madly, trying to find her lurking in the shadows. Christine looked around, perplexed, her blue eyes narrowed in confusion. Nasrin quickly melded in blackness again. In order to keep Christine ensnared in his melodious spell, Erik continued to sing, fervently.

"_In all your fantasy, you always knew, that man and mystery -_"

"_Were both in you,_" Christine interjected.

"_So,_" Nasrin thought. "_He's been singing to her for a while now. Though, by the look of rapture on her face, she has never been down here. Well, I'll make it a visit she won't soon forget._"

The boat docked and Erik leaped out, turning back quickly to face the blond angel who sat in the bucking boat. Now he sang to her, weaving seductively through the maze of candles. His voice rang out in the dark cave, causing Nasrin's heart to flutter. With every movement he made, every note he sang, she felt herself fall deeper under his spell of seduction, that most beautiful of tortures.

She saw Christine step out of the boat and gaze around the lair with a look of magic in her eyes. Her blond hair flickered copper in the dim candlelight. Erik wrapped her in his arms as he sang to her, his voice silky, alluring, his hands moving over her. He sang in her ear, pressing his body against hers. Christine looked overcome with emotion, her eyes closed, her hand caressing Erik's exposed cheek.

Nasrin felt herself growl and shake in jealousy. She peered around and gasped. There before her was a full body model of Christine wearing a wedding dress and veil. An idea struck her. Removing the diaphanous turquoise veil that covered her nose and mouth, she reached into the pouch at her side and powdered her face until it was pale ivory. She then stripped the dummy of the outfit and fit herself into it. She pulled the dress over her turquoise, jeweled skirt and bra; she took the model's blond wig and fitted it over her own hair. She assumed the manikin's position and mimicked her facial expression. Then, she waited.

Still singing, Erik revealed the bridal outfit to Christine. His note faltered as he saw Nasrin staring back at him. As Christine moved to touch her doppelganger, Nasrin lurched forward, holding her arms out to the blond angel.

Christine's eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she swooned. Erik caught her before she struck the rock and carried her over to his beautiful swan bed, laying her down gently.

When he finished his song, he glared at Nasrin. "Why did you do that?" he hissed. "She would have been mine."

"That, my dear, would fall under the category of adultery," she said as she took off the dress and put it back on the manikin. "I couldn't allow that, for then any child I birth will be sickly and dying. If you were to commit adultery, Allah would punish us by cursing our offspring. I won't let _my_ unborn children come to harm because of _your_ wandering manhood." Nasrin's voice was shuddering with embarrassment and annoyance.

Erik flushed red, his teeth bared and clenched. "I will never in my lifetime give you a child."

Nasrin was silenced, surprised at how deeply his words wounded her. Feigning indifference, she said, "Fine, a baroness and baron we will be." She walked into the darkest corner of the cave and curled up on her bed of grimy blankets, readying for sleep.

A/N: It always bothered me that in the musical, that while Christine and the Phantom are in the labyrinth, random voices started singing. It was cool, but I was confused. Also, I didn't understand that after the Phantom showed Christine the manikin that it waited for about thirty seconds before lurching forward. That's why I put that in there. (nods)

P.S. A/N: Thanks to **Videociraptor** who was the only one to review this chapter. Thank you Vi! I heart you forever! (glomps) A fellow phan is always good to hear from!

Anyway, I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter. The story does get better as time goes on, I promise. Any and all questions or comments are welcome, so please review and let me know how you think I'm doing. You . . . yes, you reading right now . . . your opinion and thoughts are important to me. (nods) Until next time! -Shade


	4. The Man Behind the Monster

"_Damn you! _

_You little prying Pandora! _

_You little demon! _

_Is this what you wanted to see!_" – Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Monster

When Nasrin awoke, the lair was deathly silent but for the rhythmic dripping of water. There wasn't a hint of the magical melody that had taken wing the previous night. Something was different, and she wasn't sure if it was boded well or not. An eerie feeling tingled up her spine and her stomach twisted into a knot.

"Erik?" she whispered, stepping out of shadow and into the candlelight. She saw him sitting at his organ, his head bowed and his mane of brown hair disheveled. "Erik, are you all right?" she asked again hesitantly.

He looked up at her ruefully, his eyes submerged in the most profound sorrow. "Hello, my little Fire Rose."

Nasrin walked slowly over to him, her copper skin aglow in the light. Her gilded top that ended just under her breasts was dirty from sleeping on the grimy floor. When she reached his side, she pressed his head against the sloping curve of her waist. His eyes closed and he sighed.

"What happened?" she asked him softly.

"She saw my face! My hideous, terrible face! I had to bring her back!" He slammed on his organ keys, a haunting chord echoing his despair into every crevice of the catacombs. She held him to her affectionately, her gaze soft and pitying.

"The side you keep under that mask? How did she see it?" Nasrin touched the porcelain barrier.

"She did what you doing now, and as soon as I got comfortable, she ripped it off and saw me, the monster in darkness. Now, she will never love me. For my face will be an imprint in her mind forever." He pressed against her waist more, her flesh warm against his cold skin.

"Unrequited love is a painful thing," was all she said.

"What would you know of it?"

"I too lost someone important to me because of my deformity."

Erik pulled away and looked Nasrin up and down. Her curves were ample, her body slender and her face unblemished. "Perhaps you are confused as to what deformity means. Your body is . . ." He looked at her incredulously. "Perfect."

"From what you can see. I hide it, just like you. Only, my malformation is much easier to cover than yours." She ran her fingers over his mask, smiling. "Regardless of whether Christine leaves forever or not, I will still be here."

Erik sneered. "A lot of good you do me. You are the most frustrating girl I have ever met."

"Perhaps you need some frustration in your life; just as I need some pomposity in mine," she cooed slyly.

He looked up at her. "Do you ever run out of things to say?"

"Not when you give me so much to talk about." She looked fondly down at him, her eyes lost behind her dark, thick lashes. "And I know that, no matter what the right side of your face looks like, I will stand by you, always with some snide remark to make."

"Your assuring comment soothes me," he said sardonically.

She smiled and laughed. Her eyes softened in good humor and she sat down next to him on his organ bench. Her hands found their proper positions on the keys and she began to play. Each wrong note she played made Erik cringe.

In order to better her playing, he stood behind her and rested his head on the bare part of her shoulder. She shivered. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his hand over hers, guiding her slim fingers to the proper keys. In no time, she had formed a melody of her very own, playing it over and over until it was perfected.

She turned to him and smiled, wary of the lessening space between their lips. In the last moment before their lips would join, Erik retreated, releasing her from his grip and taking a seat beside her. He cleared his throat, pretending not to see the dejected look on Nasrin's face.

"Have you ever played before?" Erik asked.

"Once, but it was a long time ago. My father, when I lived at home, tried to teach me to play. But that time has been dead for a while." She looked ruefully down at the stained yellow keys.

"What do you mean, when you lived at home?" Erik asked.

"I am the youngest child in my family. I have eight older brothers, all of which my mother holds in the highest favor. When I was born, I was a disappointment to my family. After all, who wants a useless girl in the family? I was cast out of my home when I was seven years old, because no man offered to take my hand in marriage.

"I was picked up by a group of dancers who taught me their art of singing with your body. I became a dancer, and slowly, I began to get better and better. Then, a few years later, I was proclaimed the best. At the age of fourteen I earned the nickname Fire Rose, because I would send my male audience into a burning trance; that, and because of the undeniable fact that no one has ever been able to control me.

"Finally, the daroga's brother, Khortdad, proposed to me. My family, by obligation, paid the dowry. Then, he was killed under mysterious circumstances and the daroga took me here to you." Nasrin looked up at him through sullen eyes.

Erik gazed over at her with sympathy, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Little Fire Rose, you have earned your namesake."

Nasrin smiled weakly, her shoulders tensed slightly at his touch. "Why? Do I send you into a burning trance?" Her voice was soft.

"Not quite. I haven't seen you dance."

"And you probably won't, seeing as though this is an opera house, and there is no music from my homeland here." Nasrin touched Erik's mask before walking to the other side of the room. "Though if I did, I'll bet you would forget all about Christine." She turned to face him, her waterfall of hair falling in loose ringlets down her body.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, looking up and down her body that seemed to call for his.

"It would be nice if I had some one . . . anyone . . . who loved me." She turned away once more, staring out into darkness.

"Nasrin . . ." Erik stood up and walked over to her. He gently put his hands on her shoulders, shivering at the warmth of her flesh.

"What? You have your Angel of Music; why would you have pity for a little girl like me?" Nasrin turned her head to the side, looking over her shoulder at Erik, whose face was close to hers.

"You said you would remain here with me despite my face. I don't pity you; I admire you. I wouldn't stay with me for any amount of money or wealth. How much did the Persian pay you to come to me?"

"Nothing, I had no choice."

"And now that you're here?" Erik's face was moving closer to hers, his fingers running through her hair.

"I . . . no!" She pushed Erik away, shaking her head. "I . . . I'm sorry. I just can't . . . I don't want you to see it." She looked frantic, her eyes darting madly. "I know I can see the man behind the monster, but can you see the bride behind the beast?"

"If you can bear to look at my face, I will not say a word about whatever is wrong with you." Erik reached for her.

Nasrin shook her head. "I can't show you. It's so ugly!" She began to sob, falling on her knees and covering her mouth. Tears fell from her eyes, pattering on the stone floor.

"Nasrin, stop it. Crying doesn't help you or me. Look at me." She lowered her head. "Look at me!" He forced her chin up towards him. She blinked out more tears. "Look at me."

"What?"

"Stop crying, Fire Rose. You're wailing is rather irritating."

Her expression turned black with hate and her hand flew across the side of his face. She then pushed him into the underground lake. He emerged from the water, gasping and sputtering.

"What was that for?" he wheezed as he dragged his waterlogged body out of the lake.

"Just because we're wed doesn't mean I have to like you, you heartless demon," Nasrin spat. "I weep, for I know I can never be like your angel. Just like you can never be like the Vicomte de Chagny. It feels the same way." She immediately covered her mouth, realizing the extent of what she had just revealed to him.

Erik froze. He looked up at Nasrin, eyes wide. "How do you know of him?"

"The daroga told me of him on my way here. He told me of all things concerning you, even your life story." Nasrin walked over to him, her eyes sparkling with guile. She realized he wouldn't bring up what she had admitted about herself. "No part of your life is a mystery to me."

"Such a relief to know that," Erik spat sarcastically, wringing out his cloak. He looked up at her through his grimy soaked hair.

"Don't move, Erik. You still have some slime on your mask." Nasrin walked up to him and dried his pure white mask with her sleeve. His eyes darted madly from her to her hands. For once, he saw her exotic eyes consumed by a soft and gentle gaze, as if she was wiping dirt from a small child after he had been splashing in the mud.

"Thank you, little Fire Rose," he muttered, putting his hand over hers. She froze. Her eyes locked with his. They were mysterious, clear blue enigmas, windows to an unseen soul, and she felt herself drawing closer to him.

His other hand emerged from his side and touched her face that was streaked with dry tears. A very peculiar urge overtook him and he moved to press his lips against the top of her head. She didn't move away and closed her eyes as she felt him drawing closer. But as his lips began to brush her flesh she pulled herself away quickly, not realizing she had a firm grip on his mask.

When she regained her composure, she saw Erik on his knees, clutching the side of his face and roaring in anger. His hair covered his hand, which shielded Nasrin from the terrible sight.

"Erik, it's all right! I told you I would remain no matter what!" Nasrin tried to make herself heard over the uproar Erik was causing.

"Give me the mask! Give it to me!" He reached out his hand desperately.

"Erik, just let me see you. Please."

"No, not now! Just give me the mask!" He grabbed for it again, but she pulled it just out of his reach. She scampered back, still holding the porcelain mask. Her eyes flashed as he ran to get her, upsetting candelabras as he stumbled towards her.

Nasrin weaved daintily between the candles, always staying just beyond Erik's grasp. As he looked at her face, he saw a smile on her face. It was a game to her; she knew that in order for him to get the mask, he would need both of his hands.

He roared and leaped at her, both his arms outstretched. He caught her around the waist and her legs buckled. They crashed to the ground and Erik held her down, face scarlet with anger. Nasrin looked shocked at his sudden violent assault. He turned her face to his angrily.

"There!" he roared. "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it! Isn't it!"

Nasrin looked up at his face, her eyes searching the expanse of his face. They wandered from his sagging eye to the red blotchy skin. His hairline was erratic, and his long hair could barely cover the terrible ridges of his malformed scalp.

"Yes it is." Her fingers ran along his head, caressing the parts of his face that no one but him had ever touched. His eyes widened and he froze.

"This . . . can't be what you wanted. I . . . was certain you'd . . . flee from me."

"Well, I am physically incapable of fleeing anywhere, seeing as though you have me pinned to the floor. But even if you weren't keeping me from leaving . . . Erik, your face doesn't frighten me in the slightest. I've seen much worse." She looked away before looking back at him again, her hair covering the left side of her face. "I've seen a man, weeks dead, and have had to identify him."

"Khortdad?"

Nasrin nodded. "Yes."

"How did he die?"

Nasrin gently pushed him off of her and looked at him through grave eyes. "He was hanged . . . hanged by a Punjab lasso."

Ooooh, the plot thickens! Do I have your attention now? –Shade

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers!

**Maska**: Don't worry about missing the update. I'm glad you've liked what you've read.

**Mysweetphantom**: I'm glad you like my story. It's always good to know that people that have been looking for a good story say they find it in yours. It means a lot! And I'm pleased that you like Nasrin. (I hope it isn't like bragging for me to say that I like her too.)

**Videociraptor**: YAY! I heart you Vi! I am glad you like the chappy, and yes, it bothered me that the manikin and the random voices popped up so I needed a reason. Thus: enter Nasrin. Thanks for your yayness.

**Maidenhair**: I am pleased you liked it. Hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment.

**Charo**: Thank you for taking the time to review! I am honored to have you call me "The Shade of good writing". (bows) And I am glad you like it. But don't die! Here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: I'm glad you like it! Hope to hear from you in the future.

**Bumble0Bee**: Sorry for the misunderstanding! I feel really bad about that. And yes, Nasrin is a bit of a bitch in the beginning, but like I said, you might feel sorry for her later. Hope you continue with it even after my faux pas!


	5. An Inconspicuous Deformity

Shade: IMPORTANT! Any lyrics not made by Andrew Lloyd Webber in this story are copyright to me! I don't want to keep saying in later chapters that I'm copyrighting my lyrics. No stealing any lyrics copyright to me. Thanks!

"_Close your eyes_

_For your eyes will only tell the truth . . ._

_And the truth _

_Isn't want you want to see . . ._

_In the dark it is easy to pretend_

_That the truth is what it ought to be . . ._" –The Music of the Night

Chapter 5: An Inconspicuous Deformity

"A Punjab lasso? When?" Erik asked, immediately interested.

"Eight months ago yesterday."

"You are so certain of the date?"

"Yes, it was a terrible, terrible day." Nasrin shook her head, two crystal tears blooming from her eyes.

"Did you love him?" he inquired gently.

Nasrin shook her head again. "No, he wanted to marry me because I am a young virgin girl. I was untouched, and as I said, my dancing was rather alluring. I couldn't love him, though. He was too cold and too dry of a soul for me. He had no spark in him of vigor, of life. I would have killed myself eventually from boredom." She twirled a lock of her hair between her slender fingers.

"But he loved you, that's why you would have married him?" Erik conjectured.

"He didn't love me; he wanted me for my flesh, and I had no other choice."

"I see."

"And now I'm married to a man who is as damned as me, such a sense of humor fate possesses."

"Damned as you? What do you mean? You say you have a deformity, yet I see none." Erik surveyed her closely, looking for any type of concealing fabric or makeup that could cover up a distortion as terrible as Nasrin made it sound.

Nasrin bit her lip. "Unfortunately, it is fair that you see it, though I wish not to show you."

Erik looked somberly at her. "Then don't. We have an eternity together." He said the last sentence with a hint of remorse.

She grimaced at the tone in his voice. "All right then. What are we going to do now? Oh, I know. I'll get you something to dry off with; you're still soaked." Nasrin stood up and walked towards her bag.

"I must write some notes to some members of my opera. Some issues must be immediately addressed." He stood up, walked over to his desk and picked up some blank pieces of parchment and envelopes. He took a brief moment to move the melting seal wax over the waning candle.

Nasrin walked over to Erik with a crimson shawl in her arms. She watched him write his notes, her head next to his. He felt the shawl drape over his shoulders.

He looked up at her before continuing. Her face was right next to his, her large eyes magnified by how close she was. His heartbeat began to quicken. Their breaths entangled in the air and she smiled. As he moved in to diminish the space between their lips, she pulled away.

"Forgive me, Erik. But I don't want you to be close to me when there is so much you don't know about me, and so much love you have for another." She walked away from him and moved towards his organ, playing around on the keys again.

He smiled weakly at her and began writing his notes with his quill. Erik soon found himself unconsciously humming the tune she played. As he finished the letters, he placed them in a pile. When the last note had been written and sealed, he turned to Nasrin who was absorbed in the music, her eyes closed.

"Fire Rose? What are you doing?" he asked her. But she didn't respond. She was playing the song Erik had sang to Christine the night before, but new words came from her lips.

"_Midnight blackens_

_Shrouding us in shadow._

_Music plays_

_And trills as far as night goes . ._ "

Erik stood up and walked over to her, enthralled. He sat down next to her, watching her every movement.

"_Feeling is believing_

_Alluring yet deceiving_

_The melody that soothes the harshest plight . . ._"

During the short pause in the melody, she turned to him, eyes aglow with the sound of the song.

"_Play once more the Music of the Night._"

When she finished, she smiled at him, eyebrows raised. "Well? What did you think? Not as good as Christine, I know, but for a first time."

Erik smiled and kissed her cheek gently. "Not bad, Fire Rose. You have a wonderful way with words, though your voice . . . could use work."

She wiped away the remains of his kiss and smiled. "I know I am no singer, but I guess that makes Christine inferior to me in dancing. It's only fair."

"I haven't seen you dance, so I cannot judge that," Erik said weakly.

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to. That was just something I said to make myself feel better about my compromising situation. Pay no heed."

"I am going to deliver these letters now. I could use another pair of hands. Would you care to join me?" Erik extended his hand. Nasrin looked first at his hand, then at him.

"All right. I'm sure I should be getting to know the corridors of the opera since I will be living here." She placed her hand in his, her eyes sparkling with a bright smile. "Just let me get some things."

"What things?" Erik asked hazily.

"Some things that will help your mystique around here." She took from her bag a long black cloak that she pulled over herself. Then, she pulled out a small white mask, identical to Erik's, and put it over her face experimentally. "See? I can be in one place, and you in another. If people see us, we can truly deceive them."

"Very clever, little rose. Let's go." He took her hand again, waiting a moment for her to take off the mask and pocket it.

He guided her to the boat, his eyes never leaving her. He sat her down in the gondola, the same place where Christine had sat before. Erik pushed off with the oar, guiding the small boat through the underground lake.

Nasrin noticed that when she was in Erik's presence, the labyrinth seemed much more magical and enigmatic. All the candles were lit around her and there were no cobwebs on the walls, no rats, no darkness. Everything was dimly lit, a sensual waterway that aroused passion and filled Nasrin with a warm, tingling sensation. Her chest burst with song as the unstoppable torrent of emotion flooded her veins, overcoming the blood and becoming her life force.

She sang a loud, wailing note, a tear falling from her eyes. Here, she was in the presence of angels.

Erik stopped rowing and looked down quizzically at Nasrin, a smile at his lips. He knew that he had complete control over her at the moment. He could make her do anything he desired. He smiled, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Sing!" he commanded in his most spectral voice. If he couldn't have his Angel of Music to control, he would at least have his Fire Rose.

Nasrin's voice rose and she stood up in the boat, slightly rocking it as she moved suddenly. Her veins stood out on her neck and her body shook with tension.

"Fire Rose, show me your passion!" he instructed, walking behind her, laying the oar over the boat.

Nasrin's voice rose higher, higher than she thought she could ever sing. Her eyes closed and she craned her neck back, her body an embodiment of passion. Suddenly, her voice faltered and her eyes snapped open. Her breath fled her and her knees buckled. She toppled backwards, almost falling off the side of the boat.

Erik caught her before she touched the water. Her head fell back against his chest. He smiled. "Very, very good, my little Fire Rose. You could be good to have around yet." He ran his fingers through her black mane, smiling fondly at her. He felt something loosen in her hair and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked himself as he pulled down more on her hair. In a moment, Nasrin's wig fell harmlessly on the boat floor. Erik's eyes widened and his breath fled him. "Oh God Fire Rose . . . if ever you were right . . ."

Now that the wig was gone, Erik could see the extent of Nasrin's distortion. It looked as though her head had been set on fire. She had a few random thin locks of hair that fell like wisps of smoke from her scalp, which was scarred black and charred. Her scalp had inconsistent bumps and crusting ridges where the burned skin had dried. There were numerous pink scars that streaked across her head, resembling hurried slashes from a blunt knife. Her face, however, had remained unscathed from the terrible scars.

In his shock, Erik dropped her from his arms. She fell to the boat deck and immediately awakened. Her eyes snapped open and she shook herself.

"My head." She reached up to massage her scalp, and then gasped, her face twisting. She could feel the cracking skin of her deformity and her eyes immediately found Erik's. His gaze was soft and pitying, his eyes squinted in painful compassion. "Oh no." She covered her head with her hands and frantically put her wig back on. Tears spouted from her eyes, her breath choked with anguish. She curled up in a ball on the boat, shaking with sobs.

"Nasrin, don't cry," Erik implored, kneeling down to her. She didn't stop, only cried louder as she curled up into a tighter ball. "Fire Rose . . . please." He grabbed her wig and removed it gently.

"What are you doing? Does my head fascinate you?" she hissed as she stretched herself out.

Erik put his hands on the sides of her head and looked down at her. "I never realized . . . how much like me you are. But if you can see my face and not cringe, your head couldn't bother me any less." He bowed his head and kissed the top of her head lightly. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him incredulously, her eyes still watery.

"Did . . . did you just kiss my head?" she asked, her bottom lip still quivering.

"Yes."

Nasrin threw herself into Erik's arms, weeping into his neck. Her whole body shook and her grip on his cloak tightened. "Praise Allah for you, Erik. Thank you."

"Poor Fire Rose. What type of torment did people put you through?" Erik asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"I wasn't born like this, Monsieur. This is the result of a punishment given to me by Khortdad."

"What, why would he do this to you?" Erik asked in shock, touching her head.

"Because even after we became engaged, I danced. He wouldn't trust me, even if I wore these." She pointed to a string of beads that hugged the curves of her waist.

"What are those?" Erik asked.

"These are chastity beads. Only virgins can wear them in my country; it is a symbol of a young girl's purity. Once a girl is married, the husband must cut the chain after they lay together for the first time. Then and only then does a girl become a woman and a wife." (A/N: I didn't do any research. I just made that up.)

Erik looked at the string of small wooden beads, knowing she expected him to cut them off one day and liberate her from the title of a child. He realized she was waiting for his leave to continue.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Go on with your story," he ushered.

Nasrin nodded. "Khortdad thought dancing was something only a love slave would do, so he set my hair on fire to ensure that I wouldn't dance looking as I do now. The blaze burned more than it should have and I was left with this." She pointed to her scalp. "This was two years ago. When I showed my parents, they wouldn't come near me, and they gave me this wig. I was never treated as anything more than a slave after that." She pulled away and looked Erik in the eyes. "That is, until you kissed my head. It . . . felt so good. Could . . . you perhaps do it again?" She looked so hopeful, her eyes pleading for him.

Erik kissed her head again, smiling as she sighed. Nasrin's heart hammered hard in her chest. Her skin tingled where his lips had brushed; she tightened her grip on him, never wanting to release him. He held her in his arms, nuzzling into her scalp.

Nasrin pulled away and gently removed his mask. He looked discerned, not used to anyone willingly removing the white barrier if they knew what lay behind it. She smiled and kissed the part of his face he believed no one could look fondly at. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her gentle, soft lips press tenderly against his sagging, gruesome flesh.

"Fire Rose, what are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Showing you how good it feels when someone cares," she answered in his ear. Erik, with his arms around her, pushed her over so that she lay sprawled on her back underneath him. She looked up at him affectionately. As he moved in to kiss her, she pushed him off her.

"What's wrong now?" he asked.

"If I kiss you . . . I won't be able to stop. And we are on a boat. A _small_ boat. We would capsize if we were to . . ."

"Perhaps you're right. And . . . you aren't my Angel of Music after all."

Nasrin's expression darkened and she roared, striking him. He was brutally pushed off her, causing the boat to rock and water to splash around the sides. She moved to the farthest side of the gondola and put on her wig again. "Let's just deliver your God damned letters and be done with it." She turned from him and faced the waterway before her, not allowing Erik to see the look of profound dejection that she knew plagued her beauteous face.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!

**DragonheartRAB**: Yes, it does. And you really won't find out what happened until a bit later but . . . . yeah. Thanks for your comment! And now you know what's wrong with poor Nasrin. (sniffles) I'm sorry Nasrin, really I am!

**Videociraptor**: Thief! Come back with the smilie's mask and no one gets hurt! JK. Thanks for your random tangent, it was much fun to read, and I'm glad you thought chapter 4 was cute. (silently agrees) Thanks! (glomps)

**phantominhell**: LOL! Well here is your update, though as I said for DragonheartRAB, the whole Khortdad's death thing will be revealed in due time. Thanks for your comment!

**Color Me Gray**: First of all, _love_ the name. Very cool. Pleased that you liked it, and well, we may have to get through the 'angst' part of the story before the 'heating up' can commence. But do not fear! There will definitely be cute displays of affection before then. Thanks for your comment!

**Maska**: LOL, a cliffhanger can definitely get one more reviews I see. Perhaps I should do that more often. (gets evil eye) Well, for now, here is your update!

**The Charo**: Hello again! I'm glad my story has your full attention; I hope I don't disappoint anyone with the chapters. (And I agree, updates are very yay.) Thanks for your comment!


	6. In the Corridors of the Opera House

"_Gentlemen, I have sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theater is to be run._" –Notes

Chapter 6: In the Corridors of the Opera House

When the boat docked in the corridors, Erik led Nasrin through the passageways, guiding her safely past his numerous traps while informing her about the placing and job of each strategically placed snare. After the traps were behind them, he showed her the envelopes.

"The first two messages go to Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin, the-"

"The two new owners of the Opera Populaire. Yes, I know," Nasrin finished huskily.

"All right, then I have two for Madame Giry and one for Carlotta. I'll show you where to go for the owners. I'll deliver Carlotta's. I want you to meet Madame Giry."

"That's fine," Nasrin replied, taking the letters for Firmin and Andre. She tightened the cloak around her and attached the mask to her face. "How do I look?"

"Like a very feminine me. Tie your . . . hair back." Erik's face flushed in discomfort.

"You know it's not my hair, so just say wig. I wouldn't call your mask your face now would I?" She tied her hair back tighter, tucking her mane under the back of the cloak.

"True." Erik guided her through winding passageways that were parallel to the passages to the dormitories. "Now we must be quiet. Otherwise, they will hear us."

Nasrin hushed herself and as she walked on the grimy paths, memorizing the way to the office so that she could come back alone. Finally, the path ended and a window allowed a ray of light to come through. She looked down through the window and saw Firmin stamping some papers at his desk.

"The trick is to not be seen. Or if you are, make eye contact to assure dominance and guile." Erik opened the window and motioned for Nasrin to proceed.

Nasrin peered through the window, the letters clutched tightly in her hand. She lowered herself slightly and dropped the letters, one by one, onto Firmin's desk. The red seals stood out against his desk that was covered with off white envelopes.

He was jarred from his concentration and looked down at the letters that fluttered to his desk. His head shot up to find from where they had come, though he knew from whom they had come.

"Anyone there?" he asked timidly.

Silence was his answer. He swore on his life that he saw a shadow dart out of his sight as he looked at the stained glass window, but after he blinked, the shadow was no more and he was left staring into the golden sunlight. He hesitantly went back to his work.

"And now, I shall deliver the letter to Carlotta. Come with me and watch a master at work," Erik muttered once they were a safe distance from Firmin's office. "You did well for your first time. I wasn't expecting much of you, but I was pleasantly surprised. Now, watch and learn."

They peered into Carlotta's room. She slept with her small dog amongst a hoard of luxurious pink pillows and blankets. She, however, was on her back snoring, her mouth wide open and a steady dribble of drool coming out the side of her mouth. Nasrin sniggered.

"Now, you must be silent." Erik put a finger to his lips, his eyes glittering with mischief.

Nasrin nodded wordlessly as Erik crept into Carlotta's room, careful not to disturb the dog, for any outburst of the small animal would foil the errand. He slowly placed the envelope into Carlotta's outstretched hand, balancing it on her curled fingers. She did not stir in the slightest and her snoring grew slightly louder.

He slunk away menacingly, his cape an elegant swirl behind him. Once in the safety and silence of the corridors, he looked at her. "Perfection," he remarked.

For a single moment, from the way his eyes shone, Nasrin thought he was speaking of her. But that moment passed and she soon realized that he was only inflating his already enormous ego.

"Indeed it was," she replied softly.

"Now come, you must meet Madame Giry."

"She was the one who saved you from the traveling gypsies, was she not?" Nasrin ventured.

"Yes, she was. A wonderful lady she is, really. She has always warned the others of me, persuading them to yield to my command. And she has also given me whatever I asked of her. I wish for her to at least know the genius of our plan."

"_My_ plan, you mean?" Nasrin hissed.

"It will be called 'our plan' from now on," he announced quietly.

Nasrin gritted her teeth sourly. "Remind me never to give you any more ideas."

"You won't need reminding," came Erik's retort. She responded with nothing but a hint of a smile.

"I cannot be seen, so I will give you the notes. The one with the large seals pertains to you; the other must be read aloud to the managers at a later time. Knock on the door and personally deliver them to her; she will understand when she reads it." Erik handed Nasrin the notes with the blood red skull seals. "I will be waiting in the labyrinth for you. When you leave Madame Giry's room, go into Mademoiselle Daaé's dressing room. Look at the mirror closely; you will see an opening. Go through it and I will find you then. I don't want you hanging yourself while returning to me."

"How abnormally thoughtful of you," Nasrin cooed. He smirked as he led her through the winding passages of the opera house, descending deeper into darkness. Finally, he reached a large door.

"I will wait for you behind the mirror. But do not take to long, Fire Rose. Otherwise, I won't wait and leave you to my traps." He began to slink back into the shadows.

"Your compassion is rather assuring," she spat sarcastically. But by the time she had finished the sentence, she had lost all sight of him. Grimacing, she turned to the door and knocked hesitantly.

"Who is it?" A slightly aging voice answered her call.

"I have two notes for you, Madame. Please, may I come in?"

"Yes, please do. Just give me a moment." The woman's thick accent made it rather difficult for Nasrin to decipher what she was saying.

There was a shuffling of feet, and then the door opened. Nasrin was met with the face of a woman with a twinkle of wisdom in her eyes. Unfortunately, as soon as Giry caught glimpse of her, she closed the door in her face.

"Erik, leave me alone. I don't know what you want from me," came the voice from behind the closed door.

"I'm not Erik; what would make you say that?" Then she realized she wore a black cloak and a white mask. "Oh, forgive me Madame, I am wearing . . . a costume if you will. I am not the Phantom."

The door creaked open and Giry looked her up and down. "Indeed, you are a woman, not a man. Forgive me, come in." Giry stepped aside and allowed Nasrin to walk in.

One look at her and Giry was immediately suspicious. "What exactly is your relationship with Erik? By the way you blink in the light, I would say you have been in his lair. Why were you there? And why are you dressed as him?"

"He told me to give this to you, and that it would explain. If there is any confusion, let me know." She held out the letter. "Oh and this one is for you to read to the managers at a later time." She handed Giry the other note with the small red seal.

"Well, that one will be kept until later," Giry announced, putting it on her desk. She turned the letter over and broke the huge seal.

She opened it, her eyes constantly darting back to the beautiful girl before her. She began to read the letter out loud, though Nasrin had absolutely no interest in hearing it.

"Madame Giry, this girl who delivered this note to you will be living with me in my lair. The Persian gave her to me a yesterday as a gift. She is my bride, and will be helping assure that my demands are met in this opera house. Her name is Nasrin Fire Rose. I expect you to treat her with the same respect you have shown me all these years. Do not disappoint me. –O.G." She finished and looked up at Nasrin.

"Well, do you have any questions for me?" Nasrin asked.

"Yes I do. How old are you? You look no more than twelve!"

Nasrin chuckled. "I am sixteen, Madame."

"Oh, I see. So young you look. Why is it that your last name is Fire Rose?" Her face was clouded.

"It isn't. That is the dancing name my country knew me by. I was famous, and I guess you can say that that is my public name."

"Such a pretty and suggestive name. What type of dancing did you study?"

"I was a professional belly dancer in Persia. I was the best of the best at the age of fourteen." Nasrin was obviously proud and her chest swelled in pride.

"Very good, Madame." Giry answered. "How . . . much do you know of Erik's past?"

Nasrin's face darkened. "Every detail of it Madame. I have seen his face, and I have no fear of him. Likewise, he has seen my distortion, and he does not give it a second thought."

"But Madame Fire Rose, you have no distortion," Giry commented, giving Nasrin the same scrutiny Erik had given her.

Nasrin moved up to her hair. "You will be the only one to see this, Madame. Erik trusts you and so, I will trust you too. But do not scream." Giry nodded. Nasrin removed her wig, letting her monstrosity of a head be shown. She winced out of habit and Giry's eyes widened. She clasped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh my dear Nasrin, what happened to you?" she whispered.

"It is a story meant for another time. But you should know that if the Phantom of the Opera strikes, it could be Erik; or," she grinned madly, putting on her wig, "It could be me. Farewell, Madame. I trust you will be true to Erik's word." She swirled her cloak around and smiled at Giry before leaving her room, blending in with the shadows.

She walked briskly down the halls of the opera, searching frantically for any sign as to which dressing room was Christine's. Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard a crowd of people coming her way. They drew closer and closer, and the ground began to rumble with their steps. Nasrin began to panic, her palms becoming sweaty. If she were caught, she wouldn't know what to do or how to act. Just as they began to round the corner that would put her in their view, she was grabbed out of the way, a strong hand covering her mouth.

"Be still," hissed a powerful voice as she struggled in her captor's arms. Recognizing Erik's melodious and seductive growl, she stopped and fell still at his side. She felt Erik lurch, and then she felt as though she was falling through a trapdoor. In midair Erik scooped her up in his arms, and when they landed, his grip on her tightened.

"Foolish little girl! You don't run into the ballerinas! You must stay in the shadows and time your exit! You nearly got caught! Then what would I have done?" His voice was sharp with irritation.

Nasrin flushed in shame. "Forgive me, Erik. I do not know this opera house as you do. Perhaps you should teach me so that this doesn't happen again."

"Maybe I shall," Erik spat quietly as he carried her through the passageways. "I shall bring you on every errand I do so that this house becomes as familiar to you as it is to me. But for tonight, we rest. Tomorrow I must come up with an idea as to the consequence of their repetitive disobedience. If they put Christine as the role of the Pageboy, something must be done so horrific that they won't dare defy me again."

He laid her down gently in the boat and began to row through the underground lake. He looked down at her. "How did Madame Giry receive you?"

"She was kind, though, in the beginning she thought I was you. I guess this costume can really fool people. Once she read your note and asked me a few questions, she became slightly more acclimated to my presence. She seemed to have reservations about me staying with you, though she never said it. It was in the tone of her voice." Nasrin finished the explanation, eyes never leaving Erik.

"That was to be expected. I am sure now that she regrets even bringing me into the opera house. And now that there are two of us, she must be petrified." He snickered maniacally. "This could be good tidings for you, Fire Rose. We will strike fear into them all if we need to."

"Yes we will. Come; let us plan as soon as we dock. Draw for me a picture of what the opera looks like, seeing as though I have never gazed upon its splendor. Then, we shall think up an idea that will make you go down in history. And we'll make sure that what we do can never be explained or believed. Yes, we shall make all the world fear the Phantom of the Opera!" Nasrin's eyes became wild with madness.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!

**Mallie**: I'm so sorry to have left you out in the thank you's last chapter! I feel really bad. Thank you for reviewing, I am of pleased nature that you enjoy it.

**DragonheartRAB**: (nudges back) Yes yes, you shall see. You shall see as the story progresses. One thing must be apparent about my writing. Usually I go through the less desirable element before coming to a sweet conclusion . . . I'm sure a lot of others do that too . . . but. . . . yeah we'll see how they progress as husband and wife.

**Videociraptor**: Yay for making up stuff is right! And I am glad you liked the emotion. Nasrin appreciated your hug by the way!

Nasrin: No I didn't.

Shade: YES YOU DID!

Nasrin: Yes I did. (nods)

Shade: Damn straight! Anyway, thanks for your comment Vi! Always good with the yayness!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: So glad you liked it! Great to hear from you again! Here is your update.

**Thephantomscookie**: I _LOVE_ the name. So great! And thank you so much, I am very flattered that you think this is one of the best phantom stories. (bows) Thank you for your comment and here is your update! I hope to hear from you again!

**Maska**: Very happy to know that you enjoy my writing. Thanks for your comment!

**Maidenhair**: Yes, I have considered getting published, but my writing is still in the beginning stages, so it probably won't be soon, but I am very pleased that you think I can get published on something like this! And I am glad you like the chastity beads, they will be important to the plot later on. (wink wink) (nudge nudge)

**Kat**: I'm very glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for your comment!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: I'm so pleased that you love it! Thanks for your comment! Hi wittle baby! (waves)

**Color Me Gray**: Wow, I love your rambling, so yay! And thank you so much for the cheesecake! (eats it) It's delicious! You bring up a good point about putting author's notes at the end of the chapter and I will certainly make sure to do it in the future. (nods) I am so pleased to know that you like my story. Huzzah! It made my day to read your review. (I do understand the overused premise of the girl with a deformity having the power to heal Erik's heart.) I was very hesitant to use it, but then I realized how important Nasrin's distortion was to the rest of the story and had to leave it in. I'm happy you liked it! Here is your update! And here, in exchange for the cheesecake, have a Phantom Mask Cookie! 'Tis delicious! (gives)


	7. An Idea Birthed Solely in Obscurity

"_Should these demands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur._" –Notes

Chapter 7: An Idea Birthed Solely in Obscurity

Nasrin leaped out of the boat and landed on the cold stone floor of Erik's lair. She turned to face him as she removed her mask and cape, flinging them coldly aside.

"Here, I have a model of the theater over in the corner. We can plan there." Erik walked briskly over to the model and looked at it through critical eyes. Nasrin joined him, her eyes surveying every minute detail with the utmost care.

"What shall we do? Shall it be in accordance with the performers or the house itself?" Nasrin gazed at the colorful display of Il Muto, flicking over the figure of Carlotta with her pointer finger.

"Both. This needs to be a disaster of epic proportions." Erik glared triumphantly at the models, feeling as though he were the twisted god of the theater.

"All right. Well, if Carlotta does indeed play the Countess, she should bear the brunt of our mischief. But what can we do?" Nasrin glared at the pompous face of the aging soprano. "Can we destroy her costume? Or ruin it?"

"No, because there is no doubt that Christine will wear that dress after we're done with Carlotta. This needs to be something just with the horrible prima donna herself."

Nasrin pursed her lips. "Damn. What is she most afraid of?"

"Public humiliation. Or at least that's what it seems to me. Perhaps we can formulate a plan that can make the audience laugh at her expense." Erik stroked his chin. "But how?"

"Can we do something to her voice?" Nasrin suggested.

Erik looked at her with eyes wide. He scribbled down the idea with his quill pen. "Brilliant. I can switch her mouth spray to freeze up her vocal chords. There is a formula I've devised that can make her sound like the toad she is." He laughed maniacally, his eyes gleaming with malice. Nasrin smiled with malevolence; at least this should be entertaining.

"Did you honestly have to write that down?" Nasrin asked dryly, cocking her eyebrows. "Are you afraid you will forget?"

Erik sneered, but didn't reply, and only tapped his quill on the table impatiently. "Now, to figure out something that can make sure that this performance will never be forgotten," he murmured.

Nasrin carefully analyzed every figure and aspect of the opera house. "What about all of the lights failing at once?" she suggested.

"I have done that before. After a while, it will cease to impress and frighten. No, this must be much bigger."

Nasrin bit her lip, her eyes never straying from the model. "Can we take one of the actors out through a trapdoor?"

"We could. But then what?" he pointed out.

"We'd kill them," Nasrin said matter-of-factly.

"No, I only wish to kill Buquet this performance. We need to think of something else to wipe the grins off their faces," Erik mused, grimacing at the sea of smiles before him.

Nasrin gritted her teeth. Everyone looked so innocent and joyful. She grinned, realizing that will change. She lowered her gaze so that her eyes were cloaked in shadow. A loud evil cackle burst from her mouth, booming across the chamber and into the darkest corners of the opera house.

"I've got it!" she shrieked. "The biggest 'accident' in history will be credited to you!" The laughter grew more maniacal the longer it resounded off the cavernous walls.

"If it is really that evil, do me the honor of sharing it with me. I would much like to know," Erik roared over her laughter, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. He expected another small, pitiful jest to answer his command.

Nasrin stood up, the light of a madman in her eyes. "You see, you were right. I was thinking too small. Yes, the perfect answer has been here all along, staring me in the face. You will be known around the world after this plan is executed." She flexed her fingers experimentally, looking at her nails, which were long and pointed, cat-like. She examined them closely.

"Really? How very intriguing. Please, enlighten me." Erik folded his arms, cocking his head and staring at her with his prying blue eyes.

"Quite frankly, I'm rather surprised that you didn't come up with it yourself. Perhaps you aren't as clever as I originally though you were." Her gaze wasn't showing much sanity.

"Just tell me what you're planning!" He began to get impatient.

Nasrin grinned, but remained silent. She swung her arm towards the model, her fingers tensed and her nails sharpened. In a moment, there was a sickening crash followed by her dark laughter.

Erik looked down at his model, his eyes widened as he saw the state of it. Most of it was destroyed and in physical turmoil, since Nasrin's nails had severed the thin rope that kept the microcosm chandelier suspended above the orchestra seats.

The labyrinth shuddered with their combined laughter.

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers!

**Videociraptor**: You're welcome for the shout-out. And low and behold . . . ANOTHER ONE COMETH! A SHOUTOUT TO VI EVERYONE! MWAHAHAA! (is hyper) Glad you liked the notes, lol. Now go get something to eat! Perhaps some ramen with chai tea . . . oh that is such a yay combination . . . Come to think of it . . . I want that now. (gets and eats it) Yum!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: You know, I actually dressed up like the Phantom one time when my mom left the house and I ran around like him, laughing maniacally. It was fun . . . but then my mother came home early and saw me running around with a black blanket over my back with my hand covering the right side of my face, laughing as the overture played. (nervous laughter) At least some one recognizes how much awesomeness ensues when one dresses up like the Phantom. (gives thumbs up) Huzzah! And I am also glad that you liked this chapter. Here is your update!

**Color Me Gray**: (eats tart) (gives you a large cup of rich chocolate moose) Wow, this story is going to result in massive amounts of dessert consumption . . . WOHOO! And good that you had Nasrin back for this chapter, for it was important. (nods) Some madness will definitely ensue when Nasrin does meet Christine face to face . . . oh the madness. It is indeed the reason why the phrase, "What happens when her small tricks turn into a deadly game of life and death . . ." is so important in my summary. Mwahaha . . . foreshadowing! (lightning flashes) (creepy music not composed by Erik plays) Thanks for your review!

**Maidenhair**: LOL, I agree. I love Nasrin just because she is such a feisty little thing. She _always_ has something to say to make her uncontrollable . . . or will Erik tame her eventually? (ponders) Hm . . . interesting.

Nasrin: Stop pondering about me!

Shade: Make me.

Nasrin: (pounces)

Shade: OW! (tussles with Nasrin)

Erik: (walks over) (grabs Nasrin around the waist) (hoists her in his arms) (walks away calmly w/ her kicking and screaming)

Shade: Thanks Erik! Anyway, here is your update, I hope that through this story, I make it clear how spirited our little Fire Rose really is! (winks)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL! OMG that would have been hilarious! You are right! Only, she would probably notice that, see the Phantom and freak out. Other than that . . . omg, perhaps I shall save that idea for a POTO humor fic! (not that I have any ideas . . . but if I did . . . XD!) If I do end up using that, I shall properly credit it to you. Thanks for the review!

**Thephantomscookie**: Well, thank you for the lovely review! (bows) I am pleased that you like this story so far. (Hmm, the Phantom plus chocolate chip cookies . . . I agree, two very wonderful and God sent things that help make my day complete.) (smiles widely) (light opens from above) (choir angelical) (looks up) Thank you Lord, for your gracious gift of the Phantom of the Opera . . . and of the wonderful chocolate chips cookies. Huzzah for such a lovely combination! Thank you for the review, and I look forward to hearing your feedback again!


	8. Repelling Passion

"_What raging fire_

_Shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire_

_Unlock its door?_" –The Point of No Return

Chapter 8: Repelling Passion

"Now that we know what to do, I must figure out a way to wire the chandelier so that I may cause it to fall at will. Give me a moment of silence to think of something." Erik pursed his lips in thought.

"Perhaps you can wire the support and cut off the main rope. The chandelier will swing as a pendulum would, causing wild discord among the people below. Then, one of us could sever the rope and cause the massive thing to fall." Nasrin leaned over his shoulder, rubbing a model's severed arm. Her warm body was pressed against Erik's, her chest against his shoulder.

He looked over his shoulder at her face shimmering with craftiness. He stood up and faced her, his eyes wide.

"You . . ." He pulled her close to him, his hands rough against her smooth skin. His eyes darted from her enchanting eyes, to her pouted full lips, and finally landing on her sloping neckline. In a moment, he pressed his lips against hers, overcoming her mouth with his.

Nasrin gave a small whine and was forced to take a step back to retain balance. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed as his tongue pushed against the barrier of her teeth. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and allowed Erik to draw her into a more passionate embrace.

"Erik . . ." Nasrin moaned as his teeth closed on her lower lip.

When he pulled away, he looked shocked at himself. "That . . . was meant to be a short . . . chaste kiss."

"Obviously, you need to refine your definition of chaste," Nasrin whispered seductively.

"I just lost control is all." He swallowed and exhaled, taking shaky steps back.

Nasrin narrowed her eyes, examining him closely. "I just figured out what type of person you are."

"Oh?" Erik sounded amused. "And what type of person am I?"

Nasrin cleared her throat. "First, a question: You are a virgin too, aren't you?"

"Yes," Erik growled, gritting his teeth.

"Why is that? Before I was given to you, you could have walked down a few blocks and bought yourself the whore of your choice. You have enough money. Why didn't you?" She was testing him.

"No one, not even a desperate whore, would bear to look at me, even if they needed the money," he replied glumly.

"No, don't lie," Nasrin scolded, "that isn't it at all."

"Oh really? Prove me wrong," he challenged.

"You are a complete romantic, one who would refer to sex as love making." She began to walk around him slowly, gauging him as a predator does its prey. "You believe that sex should be not only a union of bodies, but of everything: hearts, minds, souls. It is the most tender and loving of dances in your eyes and you wouldn't think of joining with anyone other than the woman you love. You would shower her with roses and affection, write songs for her, draw her portrait, each one more loving than the last. You would love her more than life itself. Your lair is full of roses, music, and drawings of Christine; I am no fool. Now tell me, am I right, Erik?"

His sallow face had paled to an even sicker yellow and his nostrils flared. "I . . ."

"Just say yes so we can change the topic," Nasrin growled, "because obviously I will never know how any of that feels like."

"Yes," Erik concurred, his eyes finding the floor quickly.

"I thought so. Christine . . . doesn't know how lucky she is . . . to have some one care that much about her." Nasrin turned away from him, glancing fleetingly at the model of Christine in the wedding dress.

"Now, I think it is in our best interest if we retire. We'll draw out our plans and perfect them in the morning," Erik said, dutifully changing the topic.

"You can tell when it's morning down here?" Nasrin asked dryly, feigning emotional recovery.

"The water rises in the morning and goes down at night. Right now, the water is low, telling us that it's night."

"Erik . . . Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin give you twenty thousand francs a month and you haven't gone out to buy a pocket-watch?"

His expression darkened. "I haven't needed it. This system works fine."

She snorted disdainfully.

"I'm going to bed," Erik mumbled as he stormed off towards his elegant swan bed. He lay down on the silky covers and lowered the curtains.

"Am I to sleep on the floor again?" she asked darkly.

"Yes, you aren't sleeping with me; of that I am certain," came Erik's dreary voice.

Nasrin spat in his direction and walked over to her small nest of pillows and sheets, her only nighttime comforts. She lay down and peered up at Erik with narrowed eyes. His eyes fought to remain open.

"Good night Nasrin Fire Rose," Erik said, slurring his words in his exhaustion.

"Good night Erik Phantom," Nasrin cooed with poisoned sweetness, seeing that he had already fallen into slumber.

The next morning, Erik woke up on the floor while Nasrin slept in his bed, a smug look of victory on her face.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!

**Videociraptor**: Don't worry Vi-vi-kins, I'll keep Nasrin away from your sister, I know how she gets. O.o;;; But yes, it was Nasrin's idea. Clever little thing, ain't she? (is shot for having bad grammar) X.x

Nasrin: o.o;;; Uh oh! (revives)

Shade: Huzzah! Thanks Fire Rose!

Nasrin: (walks away)

Shade: (nervous laughter) In any case, here is your update Vi-vi-kins! (bows)

**Maidenhair**: YAY! Happy you liked it, and I will most certainly keep going. Here be proof! (is shot again for bad grammar) X.x

Nasrin: Stop it!

Shade: Sorry! I'm better, really! Thanks for the review!

**DragonheartRAB**: Yes, "Nasrin certainly is an evil little thing" pretty much sums up most of the reviews I got for chapter 7. XD! Yes, she is, but she was treated just like Erik in a sense, so she has no real sense of life or of what she is really taking away by killing some one. Come to think of it, her and Erik _do_ make a good team. (nods) They work well together. Here is your update! Thanks for the comment!

**Thephantomscookie**: Oh if only phantasies like that could come true. (dreams with you) Oh! Just pictured Erik _eating_ the chocolate chip cookies with me, _THAT_ is a good vision my friend. (drools for both aforementioned) Glad you like it so far, and yes, Nasrin is an evil girl. Perhaps as bad as Erik, you'll see if she's worse. (wink wink) (nudge nudge)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Hey, weird people are yay. Come on, look at me! If you haven't read my humor fic, (even if you never saw the series) oh yeah, you'd be very certain of my partial insanity when high on sugar. . Here is your update!

**LadyofLegends**: SCREECH! It's Shade Sunbean Slayer the Pterodactyl here! (for anyone other than LadyofLegends reading this, it's an inside joke, lol) Wow, thanks for the great compliment, I am of the flattered nature. (bows) For you my Sunbeam (un-naturally large smile) an update! Huzzah!

**Maska**: Yurp, it was Nasrin's idea. I wanted to take a different spin on the play/movie/book that no one (that I read) had done before. Glad you're liking it. And as for Nasrin being there when Christine leaves . . . oh boy . . . you will be stuck on an emotional roller coaster for the next few chappies after that. I can promise you that!


	9. Modifications on Perfection

"_That fate which condemns me_

_To wallow in blood . . ._" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 9: Modifications on Perfection

Erik seethed as he drew up the curtains to his bed, in which lay the sleeping Nasrin, her head resting gently on a silk pillow. He snarled at her pacified facial expression, wanting to shatter it with a firm slap across the face. He raised his hand, readying to strike her from slumber.

She opened her eyes, as if planning his next move, and smiled. "I take it you slept well. I did."

He snarled and his upper lip quivered. "You defiant little imp! You took me out of _my _bed, putting me on the _floor_, just so you could prove me wrong. "

"Perhaps if you had let me sleep with you, this wouldn't have happened. I could have used a body beside me to share heat with. It was slightly chilly last night." She twirled her hair between her fingers, looking up at him through doe-like eyes.

"After your disrespect last night, I couldn't have allowed it," he replied stiffly.

"So you are saying that if I had not suggested that you purchase a pocket-watch you would have let me sleep in your bed?" She snorted. "You condemned me to sleep on a grimy floor because I made a suggestion?" She shook her head. "Pitiful."

"I wouldn't be mocking me if I were you," he warned.

"Well, obviously you are not me, and you can't strike me."

"Are you daring me to try?" he asked, his face twisted into a look of shock.

"Interpret it as you will," she said, rolling out of his bed and stretching, her mouth gaping wide as she yawned. Her skirt was urged up as she slid off the bed and her slim legs were lit with the faint light's tender glow.

Erik shook with fury at her complacent facial expression. He lunged at her, his eyes ablaze.

Nasrin grinned at his predictable advance and leaped nimbly to the side, narrowly dodging his unbridled attack. "Now now," she cooed. Her eyes glittered with vigor. "Don't be too hasty. You don't know what I'm capable of; or what I have done in the past."

Erik didn't listen and threw himself at her again. Once more, she moved to the side, gracefully catching him in her embrace, pinning his arms to his side. He growled angrily and thrashed. She was remarkably strong, and was able to contain him, despite his unrest.

"Stop," she commanded. "I only slept in your bed for a night. I didn't kill anyone . . ."

Erik let out a hoarse laugh. "You think that you killing some one would make me angry? I took my first life when I was about ten or eleven."

"Really? My first and only murder was very recent." She became very pensive.

"And who was the unlucky one? How did they die?"

Nasrin smiled mischievously. "I will not tell. I am sworn to eternal silence. No one knows who did it but me. That is how I would like it to stay."

"Alluring rose, your mysterious air and your strategic brilliance are the only things keeping you from destruction by my hand." Erik's voice was quivering with contained rage. He touched her cheek on the word 'hand' and his temper began to quell.

She smiled and released him. "Then I will be sure to remain secretive. For now, let us set up the chandelier. I will feel more at ease once the pieces are in place."

"First, my dear. A question I have been meaning to ask you."

"Yes?" she asked calmly.

"You were taken by dancers at the age of seven, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any prior education? Are you literate?"

Nasrin smiled warmly. "Of course I am literate, my dancing troupe consisted of several educated women who taught us. They were taught against the law, but that doesn't matter; the deed is done." She shrugged.

"What are you educated in?"

Nasrin's eyebrows bunched in thought. "Well, I know Farsi of course, French, Latin and Italian. I am beginning to pick up on that new language in the West. What is it called again? Oh yes, English. I know math, history, some earth sciences and herbal remedies. Architecture is also something I am well versed in. Let's see . . . I know some types of self-defense methods. . ."

Erik's eyes were wide and he stammered, "Were . . . you educated in anything feminine?"

Nasrin laughed heartily. "Of course, I can cook, clean, sew, garden . . . Oh! . . ." She smiled mischievously. "I know what answer you are looking for. I was taught at an early age that pleasing my husband was the most important job I would ever have. So yes, I know how to please you."

"Doesn't that fall under the categories of cooking and cleaning though?" Erik asked, not catching the vixen-like gleam in her eyes.

Nasrin crossed her arms, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Not in the way I am thinking of it. I am well versed in various ways to _please_ you . . . _sexually_, Erik!"

Blood rushed to his face and he felt immediately uneasy. Never before had he _ever_ been offered something of this nature. He began to, invariably, stammer. "I . . . I . . . never meant . . . to . . . to imply that!"

Nasrin shrugged nonchalantly. "Why do you stammer so? You admitted it, you wouldn't join with anyone other than the woman you loved; ergo this situation will not arise again, will it?"

"N . . . no," he mumbled.

"Good. There, is your curiosity satiated for the moment, or would you like to know the more intimate details of what I can do?" she whispered seductively, gloating in the look of sheer mortification on Erik's face.

"That's quite all right," Erik breathed, "let me get some rope for the chandelier." He began to walk away. But he suddenly stopped, turning towards her. "Speaking of rope, I should teach you how to make my trademark weapon, the Punjab lasso. If you ever need to defend yourself, don't hesitate to use it."

Nasrin smiled. "I don't need to learn how to do that. I already know how."

Erik immediately got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "How?"

"When you were younger, and in that gypsy fair, you came to Persia to perform tricks for our shah. My teacher, Azara, attended your show; she said that you were called the "Lover of Trapdoors." She taught me to make and use the Punjab lasso effectively, saying that with a face like mine, I might need to use it."

"Have you used it?" he asked cautiously.

She grinned. "Yes. I have also made some modifications to it, making it deadlier if you will."

"Really?" Erik asked in disbelief. "How?"

"I changed the knot, making it slightly tighter. That way, even if you do keep your hand at the level of your eyes, your hand will not save you." She took a rope from Erik's hand and wrapped it around itself until it formed a tight noose. She ran her hands around the loop of the noose and smirked. "Watch." Nasrin threw the lasso across the lair, catching a candelabrum in the noose and pulled. The rope tightened and Nasrin yanked it off the floor. The candelabrum was hoisted in the air. During the peak of its flight, Nasrin wrapped the rope end around a beam in the ceiling. The unfortunate brass ornament dangled uselessly above the lake.

"See? It can withstand more pressure."

"Very interesting. And what did you do differently?"

"I tied an extra knot below the original knot; it makes it impossible to save yourself completely, not to mention less time to react and more time to struggle as you dangles above the ground." She pointed to the tiny knot.

"Interesting. In that case, come, we must quickly fix up the chandelier. I have enough rope for both of us to use." Erik motioned to the boat. "Let us go."

"All right, I'm coming." Nasrin changed into her faux phantom attire and hurried behind him. She leaped into the boat, splashing him with a spray of water. He looked down at her with fake annoyance wiping some droplets from his mask.

"Should I expect more ethereal singing from you on this trip?" he mocked.

"Only if your sensual voice can provoke me," she replied.

"Perhaps I can," Erik proposed.

"You will," she assured, looking up at him with enthralling composure.

Erik clambered on the boat and pushed off, rowing once again across the underground lake, a tightly coiled pile of rope at his feet. He peered around at his squalid home. How could a place as dank as this cause any type of verbal or physical arousal? It seemed impossible, but yet there Nasrin lay in the boat on her back, her chest rising and falling in deep breathes and small sighs of contentment escaping the confines of her mouth.

"What would you do if I asked you to sing for me?" Erik asked daringly.

"I am more adept to singing with my body than my voice. And once again, we are on a boat, a small boat." She looked up at him, daring him to diminish the space between them. But he was able to contain himself, though she didn't know how close he was to losing control.

Fortunately or not, the boat docked just after her comment and Erik leaped out.

"Come," he called in a shuddering voice, "my little Fire Rose, make with me a plan to go down in history."

Nasrin stumbled to her feet and took his outstretched hand in hers, smiling in a beautiful trance.

A/N: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers!

**DragonheartRAB**: Rambling is very yay, I find, lol. Yes, Nasrin is a sneaky little devil, but that's why I love her. (nods) I'm glad you like the whole "Nasrin figuring out Erik" thing. (shrugs) I put it in there only to make sure that readers understood that Nasrin understands, (doesn't like, but understands) how he feels about sex and Christine. Poor Nasrin, so alone! Well, I will certainly try to change that. Thanks for your comment!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Lol, maybe you and I are the only ones who found the pocket watch part humorous, but oh well. (shrugs) Glad you liked the chappy. Here is your update! Huzzah!

**Videociraptor**: Yes, I did spell pterodactyl right! (celebrates) And yes, Erik kinda lost it there. . (nervous laughter) Lol, I heart you Vi-vi-kins! For you, I update! (trumpet fanfare) (rains candy)

**Thephantomscookie**: Thanks you, lol. I actually didn't think of your reasoning for the chandelier, though it is quite logical, and, knowing Nasrin, it's something she would consider. That murderous little imp. Yes, I don't want to sound like I'm bragging or anything, but I do think what I said about Erik was true. (nods) that's at least how I see him. As for this being an E/C fic . . . it isn't, so yay! OH! The phantom naked eating chocolate chip cookies? Have mercy on me! (bows) the vision is almost TOO heavenly. (droooooooooooooools all over keyboard) Ew . . . (cleans it up) Huzzah! Here is your update! Thanks for the review!

**Jessiejo**: Why hello! Thank you for the marvelous review! (bows) And I am glad this chapter could answer your question. (I am assuming it does . . . if my memory serves me correctly Erik surmises the whole floor thing.) Here is your update!

**Maska**: Yes, Nasrin obviously loves Erik. Poor thing can't even hide it! Erik does have _some_ feelings for her, though they aren't nearly as strong as they are for Christine. Right now, he just enjoys her company, respects her for respecting him, and thinks she's pretty. (shrugs) Thanks for the review! Here is your update!

**Maidenhair**: It's all right if you were disappointed with this chapter. (It isn't one of my favorites either personally, but watcha gonna do?) I did read Leroux's novel, and I do remember Erik's insanity resembling something of autism, so I know what you mean. The Erik in this story is more 2004 movie based, where he doesn't recoil from human contact, but in a way yearns for it. I know the 2004 movie wasn't the most accurate representation of the Phantom, but it is the most accessible to me at the moment, which would allow me to see it multiple times in order to get a clear picture of my story, since it goes hand in hand in a way. The "I just lost control" thing. I noticed it yesterday and just slapped myself in the face for putting it in. Sorry, modern stuff kinda slips in once and a while and makes it difficult for me to filter it out. I agree with you totally on that issue. Thanks for your constructive criticism, I appreciate it! Hope this chapter wasn't as much of a disappointment! (crosses fingers) (becomes pensive) "The Story of Chippy the Opera Squirrel" . . . wow, perhaps I should read it, just b/c the title is quite random.


	10. An Unfortunate Fate Sealed

"_He will burn you_

_With the fire of his eyes!_" –Magical Lasso

Chapter 10: An Unfortunate Fate Sealed

"You're becoming feverish. Are you falling ill?" Erik asked hesitantly.

"Not at all. Just . . . that ride is . . . rather . . . awakening." Her face flushed scarlet.

"Oh, and how so?" he asked tauntingly.

"Curb your tongue and let's get moving," she spat, growling. She grabbed the ropes and stomped past him, vanishing into the damp cave.

He sniggered. "You're going the wrong way!"

She emerged from the underground fog soon after, her eyes narrowed into dark, glittering slits.

"If you are going to storm off, at least make sure that it is in the right direction," he jeered.

Her cheeks darkened in a blush. She mumbled incoherent curses under her breath, but did not swear to his face. She was thankful that the white mask the Persian had allowed her to purchase hid half of her face.

"It's this way. Come," he murmured. He grabbed her arm and pulled her in the right direction, his pace quickening. His heavy footsteps resounded off the stonewalls, making it seem as though an army of determined men followed in his wake. Nasrin fought to stay beside him, not used to wearing clunky, heavy shoes.

"Can you slow down?" she called as she stumbled.

"If you fall behind, you shall stay behind," was his sharp answer.

"This was my idea! You can't wire it without me!"

"Oh yes I can. It will just take a little bit longer."

"You think so? I have the rope." She waved the rope above her head.

He stopped running and turned to her. His bright blue eyes flashed a mixture of irritation and impatience. His cape swung elegantly around his torso, gently caressing the cool floor.

"Give it to me," he commanded, holding out his gloved hand.

"No, because then I'll be left behind."

"You'll be left behind anyway," he commented dryly.

She growled and her upper lip quivered in ire. She clutched the ropes tighter. "No, I'm not giving it to you."

Erik rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this!" He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up in his arms. She gave a cry of surprise. He began to run again, this time carrying Nasrin and her heavy shoes along. His heavy, ragged breath in her ear made goose bumps rise on her flesh.

"We're here. Now get down," Erik hissed in her ear. Nasrin released her vice-like grip on him and stood on her own two feet. She looked up at him first, then around her. There was a door in front of her, a portal to a world she had never known.

"What lies beyond that door?" she asked him,

He put an arm on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "That is a door that leads to the upper level of the opera house. No one but Buquet comes up here. Once you open the door, you will be level with the chandelier. I surmised that you might need to see it to know what you and I must do to cause it to crash."

"Monsieur Buquet? Who is he?" Nasrin asked hazily.

"He is the man who spreads stories of my whereabouts. He also is responsible for scenery changes during the performances put on here." Erik's voice was black with hate.

"I see. Should we teach him a lesson as well, should he find us now?"

"Only if he comes too close," Erik assured. "Now come, let me show you the extent of the labor ahead of us." He strode past her, his arm still on her shoulder. He looked down at Nasrin and opened the door slowly, wanting to avoid an outcry from the hinges that would betray their location.

When the door swung open to its fullest, Nasrin gasped. She cupped her slender hand over her mouth as the majesty and splendor of the chandelier met her view. Her eyes glowed as the twinkling jewels sparkled in the light given off by the hundreds of oil lamps. It illuminated the theater in a dazzling rainbow of light. But the size of it . . . its remarkable bulk was in the center mostly, for both the top and bottom were thinner. She began the scrutiny quickly, sensing unease and eagerness from Erik, who stood by her side.

Each detail was memorized carefully, and soon a perfect picture of the chandelier was stored in Nasrin's mind. She nodded to confirm her completion and Erik closed the door.

"Now, to the supports. Do you know what we must do?"

"Yes."

"Good, follow me." He swished his cloak and walked through another door. Nasrin eagerly followed him, ropes still clutched possessively in her arms.

They climbed up an old flight of stairs, stirring dust as they caused a breeze in their passing. Nasrin sneezed, sniffling pitifully and her eyes watering. Erik doubled back and covered her mouth with his black-gloved hand. His eyes were darting, his expression wary, yet poised.

"I hear him; Buquet. He's looking for me. Can't you hear his stumbling steps?"

Nasrin paused, listening for any movement. She heard some one walking unsteadily in the corridor before them, crashing into various wooden objects and cursing vehemently under his breath. The slurring words he spoke were the apparent results of liquor. She sniggered quietly to herself, shaking her head at the deplorable man.

"Allow me to take care of him," Erik implored. He stepped up to the highest step, catching a glimpse of the bumbling figure amidst the shadows and piercing sunrays, which were alive with dancing dust specks. His upper lip curled back in spite, revealing gritted teeth.

Nasrin looked up at Erik, watching as he vanished over the top stair. She craned her neck, straining to hear him. Everything was silent, save for some of Buquet's stumbling.

"Inebriated fool! You moronic, bumbling imbecile! Leave this place at once!" Erik's voice boomed through the room and Nasrin jumped, stifling a scream. This voice was so dark, so evil and hell sent. It did not sound like her Erik at all. After his command, all Nasrin could hear was the frantic steps of Buquet as he stumbled about, trying to vacate the area as fast as his wobbly legs could muster.

"The Opera Ghost!" he cried, and Nasrin heard the footsteps drawing closer to her. Immediately, a palpable sense of dread filled her and she rose to her feet, intent on escaping into darkness unseen.

As she searched around for a safe hiding place, she felt someone's body barrel into her. She gave a grunt of pain as she crashed headfirst into the step. She felt the white mask fly from her face and land out of her view.

"No," she murmured, her eyesight blurring in front of her. The stench of liquor surrounded her like poisonous smog. She gagged.

"Hey! You're a gurl! But the voice I just heard was a man's! Who's the Opera Ghost, him or you?" Buquet's irritating accent made it difficult for Nasrin to understand what he said. Nevertheless he continued, and this phrase was clear as day. He pointed at Nasrin. "There are two of ye! Two ghosts up here! A man, and a gurl! Gah!" He stood up and backed away from her, knocking into a wooden pillar.

Nasrin turned to face him, her head throbbing. She clutched her scalp in an effort to stop the throes of pain, but to no avail. She looked up at Buquet helplessly, unable to gather her thoughts.

"I have too tell the others!" Buquet stumbled down the stairs and through the door, slamming it shut. His footsteps became progressively quieter.

"Nasrin," Erik murmured from beside her. She could feel his arms wrap around her waist and tighten in concern. "Nasrin, are you conscious?"

"Yes," she answered softly. "My head . . . oh Allah it hurts." She winced and grabbed her injured skull. Something warm and sticky coated her hand and she groaned.

He closed his hand over hers. "You're bleeding. We have to get you back down below."

"No!" she cried, "I want to set this up. If we don't do it now, we never can. I can stand; I'm all right." She stood up on wobbly legs and fell back against the wall. She groaned as her head pains became sharp and consistent, a symphony of drums in her ears.

"He will pay," Erik hissed, his body shaking with unfulfilled rage. "He knows about us, and for that, he will die." A gleam appeared in his eye. "I will kill him myself during the performance instead of before. The perfect addition to a night of torture and fear."

"A sublime idea. Come, let us begin." Nasrin shrugged away the support of his arms and regained her own balance, clasping a rag from her side to the gash on her head.

"You're not even walking straight," Erik said, clasping her to him again. She moved to strike him away, but missed his face completely. "That's it; I'm taking you home." He picked up her mask out of the darkness and put it in the pocket of his night coat.

"I said no! I'm going to help you with this! I mean what I say, so do _not_ attempt to falsify my statement!" Nasrin fought to stay on her feet. She grabbed his hand and yanked it brutally off her body. "Let's get moving." She picked up the large coil of rope and lurched up the stairs. "Come on. Don't waste time."

"Sometimes statements and promises must be broken," Erik pointed out.

"Not mine," she spat back, "Let's go, I don't want to stay here all day. We need to finish this, and now."

He followed her warily, readying his arms in case her legs failed. At the top of the stairs, he began to guide her safely between the pillars and to the support for the chandelier.

"Let us begin then," Erik implored, grabbing the rope from her.

"All right." Nasrin looked at the weaving supports for the chandelier and began her arduous task.

Below, the rehearsals for Il Muto commenced, Carlotta's whining voice rising and falling with the aria she sang. She was playing the Countess, scorning the Phantom's word, and thus increasing the need for his dark intervention.

A/N: Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!

**Erik's Apprentice**: Marysue? Sure, Nasrin is well educated and pretty, but she isn't perfect! Give it a few chapters and you will not think the words "Mary" or "Sue" could even slightly personify her. I admit, she is unusually bright and talented in dancing for a woman of this time period, but the flaws she does have (i.e. singing, rage, jealousy, deformity, temper, judgment, stubbornness, bluntness, cockiness, murderous tendencies, etc.) she has them very bad, and they come out in full in a few chapters, so don't label her a Marysue just yet! I do hope you continue with the story, however, and continue to tell me what you think. Thanks for the review!

**Maidenhair**: Yes, Nasrin is married to Erik. That was in the first few chapters. It's the whole conflict of the story. Nasrin is forced into marriage with Erik, ergo she doesn't want him to associate with Christine. That would be adultery. Meanwhile, Nasrin has fallen in love with Erik and is trying to get him to love her in return. But yes, they are married, so it's natural for a husband and wife to have sex. Fortunately or not, Erik doesn't want to do it with Nasrin and it's irritating the hell out of her. Hope you understand now. Thanks for the review!

**Videociraptor**: 'Ello, Vi-vi-kins! Yes, Nasrin's craftiness comes into play . . . unfortunately, she doesn't get struck with anymore brilliant ideas for a long while. The chandelier was basically the only one, lol. And don't feel bad about Erik sleeping on the floor, he'll get over it. XD! Glad you figured out the murder thing. (For anyone thinking she named the person in the review, she didn't. She e-mailed me.) So yay for Vi-vi-kins! Snaps for her! (snaps) Here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: Thank you! Yes, flustered Erik's are amusing and adorable. (pictures it) (squeals in child-like delight) Oh yes does she want Erik to work his charm on her. Who doesn't? Well, she is entitled . . . they _are_ married after all, lol. I found it amusing when she came back with the whole, "I know how to please you" and he is oblivious about it at first, never having anyone offer him anything. So cute, Erik! So happy you like her, and I am extra specially flattered since you said you're picky about E/OW stories. YAY! (dances) Thanks for the review!

**jessiejo**: Thank you, glad you like it! It's nice to hear from you again. Here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL! I know! I thought I would get more comments on the pocket watch. But oh well, some one thought it was funny. And your friends liked it too? YAY! XD! Here is your update! Thanks for the review!

**Maska**: Glad you liked it! Nasrin sings, but she isn't good, she's terrible actually. When Erik said the whole, "ethereal singing" thing, he was making fun of her. Sorry, should have made that clearer. I'll clarify it in a few chapters anyway, though. And yes, Nasrin is a little blunt, so I would back away too. (shrugs) she's just like that. As for the person Nasrin murdered, think back a few chapters. It will be stated plainly in chapter 12, so if you don't understand who it was, Erik makes a comment in which he says it. Thank you for the review! Here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Oh, your name is very pretty! I like it. Thank you for the lovely review. I am so happy you like Nasrin! She appreciates it.

Nasrin: Thank you! (bows)

Shade: Anyway, I'm glad you really liked the story so far! I hope I don't disappoint you later on. (But for the most part, I believe Nasrin's actions closely correspond with the movie and play, so if you ever saw the play and/or the movie, you will be able to follow the story very well.) Thanks again for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: LOL, that is a funny name! I like it! I am pleased that you like it so far. Thank you! Here is your update!


	11. All I Ask of You

"_Anywhere you go_

_Let me go too._

_Love me-_

_That's all I ask of you . . ._" – All I Ask of You

Chapter 11: All I Ask of You

After the chandelier was set up, Erik scooped up Nasrin in his arms and brought her down to the labyrinth, wary of her head injury. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into the bottom of his jaw. He lay her down gently in the boat, taking his cloak off and gently putting it under her head as a pillow.

"We're almost home; when we reach my lair, I'll dress your wound." Erik grabbed the oar and pushed off from the dock, weaving around the dark lake expertly, his eyes never straying from Nasrin.

She lay on her back, her waterfall of black hair curling on the bottom of the boat. Her eyes were glassy and her lips were slightly open. The slash on her head was slowly clotting, but still glistened with wet blood. The skin around the wound had swelled to twice its normal size, the parts not covered in blood were black and blue. The hair around the wound was sticky and matted, mangy looking.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked, seeing his lair emerge before him, a grimy personification of misery and tormented salvation.

"The pain does not quell," she answered in a strained moan,

Erik turned back to his lair, watching it grow before his eyes. He alone could make anything out of the miserable lake Garnier left underneath the Opera House he built. And now, it was his sanctuary: his miserable, solitary, damp sanctuary. He tolerated it only because he had nowhere else to go; he was stuck in the prison he had built for his mind forever. The grungy tapestries he put on the wall were now moldy after years in the dark, humid climate. His swan bed peered at him from beyond the slimy portcullis, its alabaster neck arched regally. Its marble eyes, in the dim light, seemed to glitter at him in recognition. His organ was pressed into a small alcove in rock, the keys yellow with decay.

"Erik? You seem awfully quiet. Is something the matter?" Nasrin asked in concern.

"I'm just looking around at my home," he muttered in discontent.

"Oh," Nasrin replied quietly, stung at how he called it his home, not their home.

"We're here," Erik said, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her off the bucking boat. When they were once again on the sturdy floor of the lair, she nuzzled into his chest, breathing against his neck. She felt him shiver slightly; his head dipped lower to nuzzle her head. As his rough stubble pushed against her head, her wig fell off, landing softly on the floor. Nasrin gave a cry of dismay and thrashed in his arms, forcing Erik to drop her to the ground. She squirmed over to the wig and yanked it over her scalp, wincing as she adjusted it.

Erik kneeled down beside her and looked at her with compassion. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand reached out to her.

"Fire Rose, I have told you, you're head couldn't bother me less." He smiled and ran his gloved hand over her cheek.

Nasrin's cheeks darkened. "Matter of habit I'm afraid. It will take a while before I can feel comfortable about leaving my wig off."

Erik pointed to his mask and smiled. "And who would know better about a situation like that than I?"

Her lips curved upwards and her eyes twinkled in dormant affection. She placed her hand on his mask and ran her fingers over its smooth surface. "We are both a mix of two perfect paradoxes; the beauty and the beast. What a pair we make."

Erik stopped to examine her. Her face was so serene, gentle. At the moment, she reminded him so much of Christine, the way her eyes sparkled and the way her smile was innocent and pure with youth. He found himself moving to kiss her, his body eagerly awaiting the inevitable. But as his lips brushed hers affectionately, he felt her sigh and give a pitiful whimper. He pulled away slightly to see her fall forward, her blue-green eyes rolling up in their sockets.

"Nasrin!" he cried as he caught her. He was alarmed to feel how cold she was. Her copper skin bereft of warmth; her head lolled lifelessly against his chest. "You're injury must be worse than I originally anticipated." He removed her wig quickly, examining the wound on her head. Her skin was stained with crusting blood and the gash had begun to fester.

He pursed his lips and carried her over to her pile of sheets and blankets, which had succumbed to entropy and had become strewn everywhere. He laid her down gently, gathering a bundle of blankets to put under her head. She didn't stir and his forehead creased in worry. He grabbed the cleanest cloth he had and dipped it in some of the water he had boiling from the morning. The cloth began to steam and Erik walked back to Nasrin, who hadn't moved since she passed out.

"I hope this helps," Erik muttered, pressing the hot cloth against the wound. He began to clean the infected area free of blood and milk white puss. Her eyes snapped open and she yelped in pain, tears wetting her eyes.

"Ah!" she cried, her hands flying up to battle with the cloth. Erik caught them both in one of his fists and restrained them.

"This is for your own good; hold still or it will hurt more." He was relieved to see her settle, surrendering to his will. Her eyes were glassy with new tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He finished cleaning the wound and quickly wrapped a long piece of cloth around her head, scowling as the blood started to seep through the layers.

"That is the best I can do for now. The best thing for you to do at the present is rest. We have set up the chandelier for the performance; we don't need to manifest ourselves until the actual opera begins, and that isn't for three weeks yet. Just lie there and rest, focus all your attention on convalescing." He touched her cheek tenderly, smirking as she fell asleep.

She snuggled up to the pillows and Erik draped a sheet over her. An idea struck him. He walked over into the darker confines of his home and took out a stuffed monkey with cymbals. He had made it in his solitude years ago as a child in the gypsy fair. It had always entailed a savory comfort for him. He walked back to Nasrin and fitted the monkey in her outstretched arms, smiling as she embraced it in her slumber.

Nasrin's sleep lasted for a few days; though she didn't move from her bed nest until three days after that. Her head had ceased throbbing and she was extremely lucid. She stood up, almost falling back as her legs failed her. When she reclaimed her balance, she saw Erik composing music in the alcove where his beloved organ resided. She paused, feeling something weigh down her arms. She still held the stuffed monkey he had given to her days before. She hadn't relinquished it in her sleep. Clutching it to her breast, she walked over to him, her feet making no noise on the cold floor.

Erik was so absorbed in his composition that any sound was impervious to his concentration. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at the score, perturbed. Something was missing in his music, and he couldn't quite place it. Irritated, he cast the parchment aside and buried his head in his hands. Perhaps he needed a break from working; he paused. _He_ needed a break? He never needed a break before. He quickly fell into a state of unsettlement. _Perhaps I should simply check on Nasrin,_ he thought, _then, I'll resume my work. Don Juan Triumphant must be finished as quickly as possible._ He turned around.

He was met with a familiar pair of glowing eyes, bright with youth against shimmering copper skin. "Fire Rose," he murmured inaudibly.

"Good morning," she said, holding the monkey affectionately in a cradle of her arms. "Or." She looked at the water of the dark lake. "I should say good evening."

Erik looked at the water and smiled at her. "Yes, good evening." He took a few tentative steps towards her, his arms slowly opening for her. She fell eagerly into his embrace, still holding the stuffed monkey. He wrapped his arms around her and held her securely.

"How are you feeling, my little Fire Rose?" he asked, his lips brushing against her ear lobe. She shivered. He pulled away slightly. "I know; I'm always so cold."

"No, that wasn't it. You're not cold at all," Nasrin assured, pressing against him again.

"Oh, are you still feverish?"

"No, and my cut is healing just fine," Nasrin answered, pointing to her clean white bandage that Erik had put on yesterday.

"That's good to hear," he said, embracing her again. He removed his glove and caressed her cheek, which became taut with her smile. She turned her head to the side so that his thumb touched her lips. She closed her eyes and planted a chaste kiss on it, nuzzling into it.

He smiled at her sweet innocence; she was still just a small girl, no matter what her intelligence portrayed. She even looked like a small child with the monkey cradled in her arms.

Seeing him look at the monkey, Nasrin held it up in her arms, holding its hands. She gently hit the cymbals together, making a soft note echo between them.

"You made this," she conjectured, "when you were younger, I presume?"

"Yes, when I was with the gypsies. It provided a childish haven for me. I . . . thought you might have needed some comfort while you recovered." He touched the monkey's familiar head.

"Thank you for your concern. I am sure you want this back." She held out the monkey to him, the cymbals still ringing.

He held up his hands as a barricade and pushed it back into her chest. "No, you keep it. You should have seen the way you held it when I put it in your arms. I couldn't pry it from you if I needed to."

"All right." She held it affectionately. "But let me know if you want it back."

He narrowed his eyes mockingly. "Don't worry. I won't bother you with something so trivial."

"However," Nasrin said, drawing closer to him, "sometimes I need more than a stuffed monkey to hold close in the night."

Erik's heart thrummed in his chest, breath fleeing him as she drew closer. His control over himself was quickly waning, and his darker, more carnal instincts began to cloud his normal elegance.

Nasrin could see his chest rise and fall quickly, his eyes darting from her body, to her head. She approached him and put the monkey down; she put her hands on his chest and began to kiss the column of his neck, moving up to his jawbone and working her way down to his chin before finally planting a kiss on his lips. She coyly opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the embrace.

His lips trailed from her mouth to her neck, and he nipped gently at it, his eyes closing. She gasped as his trail of kisses found her collarbone. She felt herself shiver in heightened anticipation.

Suddenly, he stopped, his lips hovering right over her chest. His eyes snapped open and clarity began to beat away the forces of instinct. "I . . . It is time for Christine's lesson. I must go to her." He looked up at her shattered expression. "I'll return in a little while."

Erik pulled from her quickly, allowing the space between them to increase. He walked away from her, grabbing some sheet music and leaping into the boat.

"Be careful while I'm gone," Erik said as he rowed off across the lake.

When he vanished from view, Nasrin broke down, falling to her knees and sobbing. She beat against the floor, tears cresting from her eyes and raining on the stone.

"I hate her," Nasrin spat, picturing Christine's pure, angelic face. "I . . . HATE . . . HER!" she stood up and roared, tears streaked across her face. Erik's face flashed in her mind. "And now to punish you, my negligent specter." She looked around Erik's lair.

Immediately, she upset a few candelabras and threw papers of sheet music everywhere, tearing some musical scores to irreparable scrap. Grabbing at the tapestries on the wall, she tore one down and threw it in the lake, watching with twisted satisfaction as it floated aimlessly out of view. She glared over at his swan bed, and the beautiful diaphanous black canopy surrounding it. Mad with rage, she ripped down a canopy, tearing it into thin wisps of cloth and scattering it around the lair.

As she gazed around in triumph at the mess she made, there was a sound like a river in her ears. Her head began to throb again, pounding against her skull, and she grunted. Falling to her knees, she watched as the world spun in front of her. She could feel blood run down the side of her head. In a moment, she collapsed on her side, her eyes glazed over.

On the far side of the room, the leaden monkey dressed in Persian robes began to play the cymbals softly.

When Erik returned from Christine's lesson, he was shocked to find his lair in a state of terrible discord. He leaped out of the boat as quickly as he could, eyes darting to the horrid butchery of his art.

"Nasrin!" he cried, both furious and concerned. He looked around frantically for her, first looking her sleeping area, then in his swan bed. She wasn't there. "Nasrin!" he called again, looking at his organ. It was the one of the few things left unscathed by this unnatural destruction.

Suddenly, he spotted a slender hand lying over a small puddle of blood. A wrench twisted his heart as he ran over to it. His breath fled his lungs, leaving him gaping like a fish out of water.

Nasrin lay in the blood, her eyes wide, yet unseeing, and her mouth hanging open. She was breathing steadily; Erik could see that clearly. He kneeled by her side, lifting her bloody body off of the floor.

"Nasrin, what in the name of Hell did you do?"

She didn't answer him. He knew the wound on her head had reopened, but he wasn't sure if it had stopped. He removed the bandage that had long since been soaked crimson. He touched the injury itself; it was scabbing well to his relief. Sighing, he carried her over to her bed and laid her down carefully, watching her head with the utmost care. As he turned to walk away, he heard her voice, quiet and shaky.

"To love me is all I will ever ask of you," she said.

However, as he turned to face her, she was still, her eyes closed in slumber. He turned away and began to pick up the papers that were carelessly strewn everywhere, reflecting on the look of utter dejection in her eyes when he said that he had to leave her side for Christine.

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: Lol, I know how bad computers are so not yay. I understand. (nods) Having people say they love your work never really gets old, so don't worry, I'm not sick of hearing it. LOL, you are only fueling my vanity. (nervous laughter) But thank you for saying it, it brightens my day like you cannot believe! (is pitifully addicted to reviews) And protective Eriks . . . (sigh) Who doesn't love protective Eriks? They are just . . . so . . . adorable and hot I guess. LOL. I'm glad you love the story so far, while we're on the topic. I don't think there are many instances where I let Nasrin stray from the story . . . (checks) No, I don't believe so. Anyway, thank you for your review! Here is your update! I hope you like it!

**Maidenhair**: It's perfectly understandable. You brought up a good point. Don't drown! (saves) Allergic reactions are not yay, I agree. And tastes for oddness are all right. (nods) I like EC if it's well written. (notice I have an EC story on my favorites list) And RC is the most logical, seeing as though that's how the story ended. I don't find it probable that Christine would leave Raoul to go to Erik at random, so that puts me in a quandary. I do like EOW stories, but the girl being another dancer or singer is too overused of a cliché and ergo it makes it difficult to find good types of stories like that. (shrugs) I try to make my characters different than the norm so that anyone like me can find somewhat of a solace. (that is if they like my character) Thanks for the review, here is the update! (and if there is any sexual content in any chapter, I will give a big warning ahead of time so that you won't read anything you won't want to. If your parents don't want you to read after a certain point, I will understand; I just thank you for sticking with it so far.)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: I'm so glad they liked it! (claps) It makes me happy! Here is your update, thanks for the review!

**DragonheartRAB**: Thank you for the review! I find Nasrin's stubbornness very cute; she is very much like me in that sense. There will definitely be some romance soon; that I can promise you. But the pattern of their affectionate encounters are erratic, and it's almost like a tease for most of the story. Don't worry though, this chapter had some in it, and others will too. Here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: In the movie, yes, the chandelier falls during Don Juan. But in the play (where this was taken from), the chandelier falls during Il Muto after "All I Ask of You (Reprise)." I did use all of the same events including some where the block of time is missing (after Il Muto). Don Juan will be in there, Track Down This Murderer, etc. And of course, Masquerade, AKA: the part that will either make or break your hopes for Nasrin and Erik. Mwahaha! Thanks for the review, and here is your update!

**Maska**: Glad I was able to clear that up. I got a few reviews talking about Nasrin's singing. I can assure you, she sux, lol. Yes, I never really liked Buquet . . . though I found it hilarious during the play when he described his deformity as Leroux did, when really the deformity was much different. Silly Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, great composer, leetle messed up on the lyrics. Yes, Erik's opera ghost voice is very yay. (drools) It's hot.

Nasrin: (knows)

Shade: Glad you like the chapter! Yay! (dances) And don't worry, Nasrin will be just fine. Her head's gonna hurt for a little while, but she'll be all right. I promise. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: Yes, Nasrin doesn't much appreciate being hurt on the head. But she'll be all right, don't worry! I made her with a hard head! (knocks on Nasrin's head)

Nasrin: OW!

Shade: O.O Oh, sorry. Ahem, anyway, I liked you little musical interlude. It made me laugh . . . ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! (in Carlotta's voice)

Carlotta: You stealah ma voice!

Shade: I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.

Carlotta: YOU STEAL . . AH! (is silenced as Shade shoves a toad in her mouth)

Shade: MWAHAHA! Anyway, here is your update! Huzzah!

**LadyofLegends**: I love Nasrin too, though I don't know how well Nasrin would deal with (insert town name here) She might be scared . . or worse . . . curious. O.O Oh boy, I'd best go contain her. Thanks for the review!


	12. The Fateful Crash

**Shade: For anyone who hasn't seen the play before and is confused, the order of events at this point goes . . . Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh, Why Have You Brought Me Here, All I Ask of You, All I Ask of You (Reprise), chandelier go boom. Just so everyone knows. Ok, onwards! (The rest of the events take place as follows in the movie)**

"_Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!_" –Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh

Chapter 12: The Fateful Crash

The weeks drew themselves out to be the longest weeks in Erik's life. Nasrin didn't notice the lapse of time as much, for she spent most of her time sleeping as her head injury healed once more.

When the night finally did arrive, Nasrin's ears perked as the orchestra began to warm up and she nodded gravely at Erik.

"It is time," she said, "time to see if _my_ catastrophic plan has the result _I_ dreamed of."

"I'll give you the signal when I want you to cut the support," Erik assured, gathering his cloak in his arms. "We won't do it immediately; I would like this night to entail some sort of amusement for myself."

Nasrin removed her wig and threw it on her bed. She walked over to the table with a few various types of wigs. She took a wig identical to the one Erik had just put on, and tightened it over her head. Putting the mask and her cloak back on, she turned to him. "So do I."

They climbed in the boat and rowed off, hearing the orchestra grow louder with each oar stroke. This time however, Nasrin didn't sing at all; she wasn't even tempted. Today, the labyrinth was dark, gloomy, the very reflection of her tortured soul. She couldn't bear to look at Erik; just the thought of him made her heart wrench. She sat in the front of the boat, gazing at the desolate scene before her.

"Do you believe you have the courage to do this? Are you prepared to be the one to take life?" Erik asked, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence that festered between them.

"Of course. I have done it before," she spat back, turning to face him, only her eye glittering against the whiteness of the mask.

"I know. However, you killed Khortdad for a good reason," he replied.

The color drained from her face. "How . . . how did you . . . ?"

"Do you take me for such an imbecile that I couldn't piece together the clues you had given me? Your punishment, your improvement to my noose and the fact that you said that you had killed some one recently. Khortdad's death was obviously your doing. But, to those who didn't know what happened between you two, it looked like an murder from someone at random, like an assassin for hire."

Nasrin looked on at him approvingly. "Well done. You pieced together more than that idiot Nadir possibly could."

"The question remains, Fire Rose. Can you take _innocent_ human life without remorse?" His rowing was the only noise in the lake for a brief moment.

"Of course I can. It will be easy." Nasrin's look became submerged in hate.

"Oh?" he asked with a hint of humor, "will it now?"

"Yes, I'll pretend those people I murder . . . are you." She turned from him, catching a short glimpse at the look of both shock and horror on his face.

Silence once again reigned in the boat. Nasrin fiddled with her chastity beads angrily, looking down at her reflection. Erik was right; she did look a lot like him. Eyes narrowing, she struck the reflection in the water, distorting it with ripples that spread through the lake. Angrily, she turned from the water, gazing at the dirty floor of the gondola.

The boat docked and Erik leaped out, grabbing her hand and running through the mazes, hearing the overture for Il Muto begin. The audience had quieted slightly, but their clamor hadn't subsided enough for it to be silent to Erik and Nasrin's ears.

They reached the wiring for the chandelier as soon as the overture turned into the first act. Nasrin could watch the play easily through a small peephole in the ceiling; it was conveniently right next to the rope she had to sever for the chain of events to occur.

"I'll leave you here. I must switch Carlotta's mouth spray and take care of Buquet. Stay here; don't move. Do not do anything to the chandelier until I am up here with you, no matter what I say to the people." His eyes were narrowed in severity.

"Fine, go, go!" Nasrin shooed him off, anxious for him to initiate this performance into a night of terror.

Erik swished his cape and was gone, leaving behind only a small wind in his wake. He ran through the secret passageways until he was backstage, but cloaked in shadow. Reaching under his cape, he drew the mouth spray, contained in an identical vial as Carlotta's good one. He moved as if he were a shadow himself, grabbing the vial of purple spray and replacing it with his own concoction. Then, he fled the area, unaware that Buquet was watching his trick the whole time.

Nasrin watched the people in the audience, the women fanning themselves constantly to keep from passing out. She felt empowered, holding all this human life in her hand. All it took was the severing of one rope, and all would be done. But, she sat back, awaiting Erik's call.

Carlotta began to sing, her high, yowling voice trilling through the opera house. Nasrin winced as the pitch hit an unfriendly tone in her ears. How could Erik have tolerated her for this long? Nasrin would have eliminated her years ago if she had haunted this place. Thankfully, Erik interrupted her rather irritating solo.

"Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept empty?" His voice boomed across the opera house, echoing through the tremulous crowd. A unanimous gasp silenced all movement. Nasrin grinned as Christine cupped her hands over her mouth in shock.

Carlotta hissed something to Christine, who looked down in shame. Erik's voice exploded through the place again. "A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is _you_ who are the toad!"

Then, there was blessed silence. Carlotta began to fan herself quickly and instructed the conductor to begin from the beginning of the aria. She walked briskly off the stage and Nasrin could see her get at least five spritzes of the spray in her throat.

"Good," Nasrin whispered, "croak you filthy toad, croak."

The music rang out again, timid with fright. However, Carlotta was always up to proving that she could sing no matter what the circumstance.

"Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my- CROAK!" Her mouth hung open in shock, her eyes as wide as saucers.

The audience remained in a hushed silence with only Nasrin's loud sniggering echoing through the place. She could imitate Erik's laughter quite well. Nervously, the audience began to join in the laughter, tickled by the sadistic humor behind the toad.

Carlotta tried again. "Poor fool he makes me laugh. Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha- CROAK, CROAK, CROAK!" She couldn't get a decent noise out. By this time, the opera was roaring with laughter, the women's fans beating the air frantically. The audience was in a state of pure hilarity, Nasrin's maniacal laughter overpowering the crowd. She stopped to catch her breath.

"Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier! Ha ha ha ha!" Erik bellowed.

The chandelier shuddered from his powerful voice and the jewels jingled together. Nasrin almost severed the rope, but remained still, realizing that Erik was not beside her.

Andre and Firmin quickly brought the curtain in, trying to settle the crowd as Carlotta ran off the stage, crying and screaming in shame. Frantically trying to restore order, they brought out the ballet from a later part in the performance. Nasrin could see that behind the backdrop, Erik chased Buquet, his cape flailing behind him. _It would only be a matter of time before that drunk sod is dead, _she thought touching the pale scar on her head from their prior meeting.

"Make it terrible, Erik," Nasrin prayed, watching their master plan unfold.

Suddenly, the music began to dull in Nasrin's ears, and her blood was roaring. _It's happening right now,_ she thought, _he's killing him._ She grinned, waiting for the inevitable.

Just as the music reached its climax, Nasrin saw Buquet's body plummet down to the stage, his neck bent at an awkward angle. The rope tightened and he dangled above the ballerina's heads, spinning slowly around as his nerves spazmed. His neck snapped. Nasrin fell back away from the hole in fright. It startled her; and she clutched her breast, her heart racing.

The ballerinas screamed and ran off the stage, leaving behind their props and tearing their dresses. The audience gasped and stood up, filing out of their seats and fleeing the theater.

Andre and Firmin appeared once again, attempting to quell the panic in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down! It was simply an accident . . . an accident!" they implored in a frenzy.

The people cautiously sat down in their seats, while above them, Nasrin shifted uneasily. Where was Erik? Reluctantly bound by her word to him, she sat back and waited while the Opera Populaire scrambled for its bearings.

She waited in the darkness, fidgeting with her fingers and looking constantly at the taut rope she was instructed to sever. The seconds turned into minutes and Nasrin gnawed on her lip. He was late. Where did he go to?

Suddenly, the curtain opened and Christine came out, dressed as the Countess, singing brightly and cheerfully with Carlotta dressed as the pageboy and scowling darkly. Once again the opera house was cheery and the play was the center of attention.

Nasrin growled in spite, fighting the urge to spit at Christine. She balled her fists and narrowed her eyes.

She felt some one grab her shoulders and spin her around. She let out a small cry of surprise as she felt the strong grip. In the dim light she could make out a white mask similar to her own. It was Erik; his face was tear-stained and his body shook with anger beyond what she had expected.

"Do it; do it now," he hissed, crimson with rage.

Nasrin leaped up, not daring to question him and severed the rope. Supports began to break and the rope unraveled quickly, humming as it whizzed through the wires. She heard the tearing of plaster and turned to see the chandelier rope breaking through the ceiling as it swung. Unfortunately, it was coming straight towards her. Before she could react, the rope split the ceiling under her and she fell with a cry as the ground crumbled from beneath her.

"Fire Rose!" Erik cried, his voice lost in the commotion from below.

Nasrin stood up on the chandelier, clinging desperately to the main rope as the chandelier swung above the mezzanine and orchestra seats. She looked up at Erik. "Get out of here! I'll make sure I reach the stage; then you will open a trap door for me! Do it now!"

"Go to the direct center of the stage, I'll be there! But try to hold off as long as you can!" He looked down at her fleetingly, his eyes wide with concern before hurrying off without a trace.

Nasrin looked down at the people a hundred feet below her. She swung for a few moments over the seats before the chandelier tipped forward and began its deadly descent. "By Allah, my God." Her voice was unheard in the melee. She looked at the stage, rejoicing at the look of pure horror on Christine's face. She was swelled with dark confidence, throwing her head back and laughing, the chandelier plummeting down to the orchestra seats.

"GO!" she roared at Christine, her finger pointed directly at her face. The ground was becoming closer to the bottom of the chandelier. "I hope I gave you enough time," she murmured to herself.

The chandelier struck the seats in an explosion of sparks. Nasrin let go of the main rope and leaped off the top. From the force of the strike, she went careening into the air, flipping over before landing somewhat perfectly on the stage. She stumbled slightly as she ran towards the center of the stage, Christine sprinting away as quickly as she could in her confining dress.

Nasrin found the spot Erik spoke of and stood on it, facing the utter destruction she caused to the theater. Some people had stopped running and turned to face the cause of this chaos. Nasrin smiled evilly, spreading her arms in triumph, slightly drunk with her power. She lifted up her foot and stomped as hard as she could on the stage. The trapdoor opened with an explosion of fire and Nasrin fell below it. It looked as though she was being welcomed back to hell.

The fire didn't touch her, but the heat caused her to close her eyes and make her unable to brace herself for her landing. However, strong arms caught her, and a familiar voice whispered in her ear, "Brava, my dear."

She let out a hoarse laugh as she felt herself shake intensely in his arms. "That was more catastrophic than I had wanted it, really."

"It could have been . . . you could have . . ." Erik couldn't finish his sentence. His grip on her tightened, finishing his thought for him.

That was when Nasrin realized that he was shaking, not her. The world began to spin in front of her eyes and she fell into blackness as Erik raced through the corridors of the opera house, the operagoers' screams of terror in his wake.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! (blows kisses) Thank you!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: You are right, Eriks in all their emotional stages, are just damn hot. He could blink and I'd throw myself on him and shower his face with kisses.

Erik: (O).O (inches away)

Shade: I'll get to you later Erik. XD! You got it in for Christine, huh? I would LOVE to see that! (Personally, I want to kill her myself. Perhaps we should conspire.) Oh the utter ANGST! Poor Nasrin, I feel bad putting her through half of what she's going to go through . . . (and that's a lot) But I don't think it was quite Erik's fault. Nasrin just can't run.

Nasrin: HEY!

Shade: (shrugs) I'm just saying!

Nasrin: (death glare)

Shade: (cowers) Perhaps I should end this before I am murdered. Thanks for the review! (vanity slightly growing) Here is your update!

Erik: (sighs)

Shade: OMG A SIGH! (glomps) (kisses)

**Maidenhair**: Yes, poor Nasrin indeed. (pats her head) I felt bad making her practically destroy the lair, but that's what she would have done, fiery little thing that she is. And yes, I will post a warning in bold before the song lyrics. (In case anyone pays attention to them, they're just before the chapter title and they pretty much sum up the chapter and what it's about.) Thanks for the review, here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: It made you cry? Aww! (hugs) Don't worry, Nasrin will be all right . . . eventually . . . you know her . . . can't seem to not hold a violent grudge. LOL, here is your update! Thanks for the review!

**Maska**: I know, Erik definitely needs to understand what girls want. No wonder he hasn't gotten laid yet.

Erik: HEY!

Shade: Pft, your fault!

Erik: It's the deformity . . .

Shade: (raises eyebrows) It's the certain lack of dexterity you sometimes have at crucial moments!

Erik: (is silenced)

Shade: Yeah, the whole lair wrecking thing was kinda hard to write. (partially b/c I love his lair in the movie, oooo, so nice.) But, that's what Nasrin would have done, so oh well for Erik! Ah yes . . . the Point of No Return. (sniggers) I don't know how to quite put her involvement into words without giving a lot away . . . so unfortunately I guess you'll have to stick it out until (checks) chapter 22 or 23 . . . . I think, somewhere around there. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**jessiejo**: Yes, Nasrin (despite being a sarcastic and annoying, yet lovable little thing) only wants Erik to love her. So simple right? Sometimes Erik, I wish to smack you. Love her! (points to Nasrin)

Erik: . . . .

Shade: UGH! MEN ARE HOPELESS! Anyway, glad you liked the last post. Thanks for the review! I hope you liked this post too! (unknowingly rhymed)

**An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin**: Wow, now that is a name I laughed at. Very amusing. Hello, and welcome to my story! (waves) I agree, Erik should ditch Christine for Nasrin, she is just so cool like that.

Nasrin: (nods ghetto style)

Shade: Nasrin . . . you are a 16 year old Persian girl . . . in the 1870s . . . _never_ do that again.

Nasrin: (nods normally)

Shade: Well, don't know if Erik will _ditch_ Christine . . . but we'll see. Nasrin kinda has to lose her mind first . . . oops (eyes shift) Did I just say that. Thanks for the review, here is your update! (zippers mouth)

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Yes, I posted the order of events for you at the beginning. (is sure you saw it) yeah, her outburst was upsetting to me . . . I like the lair. But she didn't destroy anything critical so Erik gets over it uber fast. Did I just say 'uber'? Ew. (slaps self) Just a warning, Nasrin will do a little worse than trash his lair later . . . so she does have insane anger issues. That was but a taste of it. (nervous laughter) But anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: Oh no, it's all right. If it's easier, just sign reviews anonymous from now on if you like. I'll know it's you. I'm glad you liked the chapter. XD! Everyone's saying 'poor Nasrin' and I agree, she has such simple needs. But Erik . . . he needs to wake up, I agree. As I said, stuff has to happen before he figures his feelings out, and unfortunately, Nasrin sacrifices something in order to be with him . . . then he figures it out. Thanks for the review, your daring act touches me. (bows) Here is your update! And if you need to e-mail me if you have a question (b/c of or something) My e-mail address is under my profile so feel free to e-mail me.


	13. The Near Breaching of Fate

**Shade: Warning, this chapter contains slight sexual content. It's not bad, I don't think, but I promised I would warn you.**

"_When will the flames at last, consume us?_" –The Point of No Return

Chapter 13: The Near Breaching of Fate

Erik carried Nasrin down the corridors as quickly as he could, not wanting to risk anyone finding them. He laid her down gently in the boat and rowed off fervently, throwing himself into each stroke of the oar.

When they reached his lair, he carried her over to her bed and put her down gently, covering her with the sheets. He smiled at her peaceful expression and caressed her cheek.

She opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids fluttering open. Her gaze fell on Erik and she smiled.

"Well done. You did it." Her voice was hoarse and shaky.

Erik's eyes sparkled when they met with hers. "We did it." He ran his finger down the bridge of his nose, gently touching her lips. "If I remember correctly, it was you who swung on the chandelier and crashed it."

"But it was you who hanged Buquet."

"Yes, with your noose." He began to pick her up slowly in his arms, drawing her body closer to his.

"But it was you who . . . who . . ." Her body was pressed against his, and she could feel his heart against her chest.

"Who what, Fire Rose?" he asked softly, his lips brushing hers. She began to lose her breath.

"Saved me," she finished with a sigh. She touched his face, her heart hammering in her breast. "Would you like to save me one more time?"

He tightened his grip on her waist and gently lay her back down, his face hovering over hers. Their breaths mingled in the air.

He took off her white mask and wig. "You look so much like me at the moment. Please, when we are alone, look like yourself; it's far more pleasing to the eye."

She shook her head, unaccustomed to this newfound freedom, her few strands of smoky hair falling over her face. Her hands found his jacket and she removed it without breaking eye contact with him. "Take it off," she said.

"Take what off?"

"For now, the mask."

His hands crept up to his face and he peeled it off slowly, still nervous of her reaction. But she merely smiled and brought his head down to hers, planting arduous kisses along his jawbone and the deformed part of his face. He let out the most pitiful whimper Nasrin had ever heard and she felt a tear fall on her shoulder.

"Erik," she cooed, taking off his wig and running her fingers through his fine hair.

He looked down at her in shock. Her gaze was so soft and gentle, but it wasn't pity in her eyes like it was with Christine. He shivered as her soft hands moved from his face to his chest. She looked up at him expectantly.

In a moment, his lips met hers in a storm of passion, his breathing shallow. His hands traced down her back to the clasp on her top, his tongue pulsing in and out of her mouth until she made soft moaning noises. He fiddled with clasp until he heard the tell tale snap and saw the top loosen around her front. Without breaking eye contact with her, he slid the thin fabric off of her and placed it gently aside.

"Perhaps I can let you sleep in my bed just this once," he said, pressing his lips against her neck, his warm tongue briefly caressing her skin. Nasrin shivered, her grip on him growing stronger.

"That would be lovely," she murmured as she kissed his forehead. "I'm sure it is much softer than the floor."

He stood up, lifting her in his arms with him, and began to walk slowly over to his bed, kissing her deeply and easing the tense muscles of her back with the pressure of his fingers. He felt the swan's head of his bed against his thigh and he gracefully dipped Nasrin into a bow, sliding her from his waist and onto the bed.

She looked up at him tenderly, completely succumbing to him. She lured him closer to her, that seductive smile on her lips.

As he moved in to kiss her, she moved away, keeping her lips chaste with unbearably coy snickers.

He hissed slightly, irritated with this unnecessary play, and grabbed her head, attempting to kiss her that way. At the last moment, she turned her head up, and he kissed her exposed neck. He growled and narrowed his eyes.

Nasrin grinned and held his head in her hands. She kissed the corner of his mouth, just before his lips, and moaned against him, quivering.

His breath quickened and his grip on her tightened. "Please . . . Fire Rose . . ."

"Can't even form a sentence?" she asked teasingly. "All right then, enough is enough." She kissed him passionately, moaning as he pressed himself against her reclined form, shaking with contained fervor.

Erik's hands moved gently down from her shoulder to her breasts, her stomach, finally landing on her hips, his lips still dominating hers. As his hands found the small of her back, he yanked her waist against his and held it still. "Oh, Christine," he murmured tenderly between kisses.

Nasrin stopped and brutally pushed him away. "What did you call me?"

"I . . . I called you-"

"Christine! You called me Christine!" Nasrin struck him across the face. "You . . . you . . ." She roared in hatred, shoving him aside and storming off to her bed, grabbing her top.

"Nasrin . . . I-"

"Erik, just be silent!" she spat, throwing her top over her exposed chest. "Forget anything even came close to happening! Forget . . . everything! I know! I know what you will say! I cannot be Christine! You love her! I know I cannot hold a candle to her beauty, her unsurpassed poise! You will always love her and I am damned to always be second best at most!" She tied her top over her chest and put her normal wig back on, a pair of tears tumbling gracefully down her flushed face.

"Please, Fire Rose . . . I didn't mean to . . ." Erik stood up, his large white shirt draped over his chest, exposing a small patch of hair.

"But you did!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Well, where is she, Erik? Where is your Angel of Music now that you must pretend that your _bride_ is her!"

"She left with the Vicomte de Chagny! She betrayed me and abandoned me!" Erik roared loudly, upsetting a nearby candelabrum. "You aren't the only one who aches for a love that cannot be!" He began to tear slightly, the razors of betrayal cutting deep into his masked vulnerability.

Nasrin felt a faint sense of pity, and, not being completely apathetic, approached him slowly, winding her arms about his neck and allowed him to cry into her shoulder. He wept for a fair few moments, emotional turmoil racking his already decrepit heart. She held him tenderly, realizing that nothing would happen between them tonight, and simply nuzzled into his neck, casting aside her own fury in order to comfort him.

"It's all right. It just wasn't meant to be, Erik." And to herself she added, "Thankfully."

Unfortunately, her last comment reached Erik's ears and he brutally shoved her away, growling.

"Do you want me to be miserable, you selfish wench?" he hissed.

Nasrin was taken aback, never seeing such a display of tactless anger from him. When his words finally registered in her head, her expression crumbled and a tear pattered on the floor.

"You jumped! Are you scared of me, Fire Rose? Do you finally see the monster in me?" Erik roared, storming towards her. "Come now, be like everyone else! Cower before the demon you are bound to!"

"Erik, you're frightening me!" she cried, backing up slightly as he drew closer, his hunched over form shaking with madness.

"Am I? AM I?" he bellowed grabbing her shoulders and pushing her brutally against the stone wall of his lair. She cried out as a sharp rock cut into her back. He held her still. "You do not want to tempt a desperate man, my dear!" He spat the words 'my dear.'

Nasrin recoiled, shivering with her eyes screwed shut. As he pushed her harder against the rocks, she raised her hand, striking him severely across the side of his head. He stumbled back, his jaw slacked in awe. "You dare to hit me again?"

Nasrin gritted her teeth and roared, regaining her normal fiery temper. "Yes! Keep doing it Erik! Transfer all of your hatred and pain to me! That's the way to go about it! I can handle your anger _for_ you, as it is evident that you cannot handle it yourself! So go ahead Erik . . . go on . . . STRIKE ME AGAIN! Remember one thing, my 'darling': Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn!"

Erik froze for a moment before advancing towards her again, eyes bottling the fires of hell. "I have heard that saying before, do not take my for such an imbecile! I believe it is you that must remember that, though I have found that saying to be true, you are nothing, and I mean _NOTHING_, but a useless . . . little . . . GIRL!"

That was a nerve never meant to be touched. Nasrin's eyes widened in fury and she felt a plethora of dark emotions bombard her wracked brain. She snarled in animalistic rage and clenched her fists.

"You . . . You can rot in the pits of hell where you belong, you arrogant bastard!" With that, she spat in his face, her upper lip curling into a snarl.

He looked down at her, more irate than she had ever seen him. He walked towards her slowly, one intimidating step at a time, his back hunched like a barbaric creature.

"Then I shall meet you there, my 'bride!'" He grabbed her arms and threw her forcefully down beneath him, not even wincing as she struck the cold stone. A small cry of pain echoed her fall. She looked up at him in shock, a cut drawn bloody on her cheek from the coarse rock. She touched her face and came away with a smear of crimson on her hand.

Her expression turned firm with ire again and she rose to her feet defiantly, her cheek oozing small droplets of blood. Without a word, she walked up to him and smeared her blood on his bare face.

"There, now you have my blood on you. You can never wash that away, no matter how much water you pour on yourself." She wiped the rest of his blood on his white undershirt. "That's enough," she finished firmly.

Erik touched his face in disgust, coming away with Nasrin's blood coating his palm. All at once, a connection seemed to be made, for the insanity in his eyes dwindled and faded, giving way to his normal passive gaze. He looked at Nasrin in shock.

"Fire Rose . . ."

Nasrin shook her head and held up her hand, clutching her other to her cheek. "Don't you _dare_ . . . say . . . a word."

"Are you in much pain?" he asked, approaching her.

"Why in the name of Hell would you care? If you must know . . . the look in your eyes when you hurt me was much worse." She pressed a piece of her crimson cloak against her wound.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked quietly.

Nasrin looked up at him incredulously, but didn't answer. She just looked back down and walked over to her bed, covering herself with her grimy sheet and turning from him. Tears flowed silently from her eyes as she touched the chastity beads on her waist tearfully, awaiting blessed slumber.

Erik, defeated and culpable, walked dolefully to the ironic splendor of his swan bed with the diaphanous black canopy. He reluctantly kicked his feet under the covers and allowed long restrained sleep to take him.

That night's rest was different for Nasrin. She had never dreamed of making love to some one. Usually, she dreamt of being chastely embraced, with words of devotion being whispered in her ear. However, fate made a change. Perhaps it was due to the fact that her encounter with Erik had been the closest she had ever come to love making. In spite of this, she dreamed of her child-like innocence being cast aside in something far more meaningful than naked lust.

There was silence between her and this enigmatic man, but the silence spoke more of undying fidelity and love than any whisper could. She couldn't see his face, for his lips never left hers and she was unable to open her eyes. Her hand rested on his face, and she could feel the powerful muscles of his jaw working as her head moved with his. She could feel his hands on her hip bones, his fingers dancing across her stomach. She tensed; this man had a touch that set fire to all of her senses. Nasrin desperately yearned to know his identity.

The only aspect of this man that remained close in Nasrin's mind was his smell. This man had a very odd scent to him; he smelled of fresh wood and blood.

_But Erik . . ._ she had thought to herself. _He smells of musky roses._

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! (gives them all a cookie)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Your wish is my command. (bows) ERIK!

Erik: What?

Shade: Hug my loyal reviewer, now.

Erik: All right. (hugs tightly)

Shade: Thank you Erik! (hugs him) And thank you for the review, here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: LOL! Your review had me laughing my friend. Just picturing Christine being chased by rats is enough to make me giggle to myself. I'm not an R/C basher, I mean, that's how the story ended. Hardcore E/C shippers I don't think would like me, because just the idea that one day Christine would be like, "You know, I miss Erik. Bye Raoul!" To me it just never seemed probable. Nasrin, as mad as she was at Erik does have very strong feelings for him, otherwise she would do just what you said. Well if you are waiting for that point to come and want to see how she fares on her own, you'll like the next few chapters. But, just like the best of us, Erik doesn't just let her go. Mwahaha! And conspire for Christine . . . perhaps we should wait until Nasrin meets her. Nasrin has a few ideas as to what she wants to do to her. You know her, she doesn't stomach jealousy well. (winks) Thanks for the review, here is your update! And just because I can, I have summoned Erik to hug you!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: Good job Erik! YAY! (dances)

Erik: (doesn't)

**Dragon-mage16**: Hello, welcome to my story! I am pleased you like it so far. Here is your update, I hope you like it! Erik, once again, hug my kind reviewer!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: YAY! (dances)

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Well, yes, Nasrin does do something to Erik and Christine. She gets actually rather cold towards Erik after this chapter and starts playing the game of seduction (just as Erik did to Christine in the movie. So it's karma for Erik and just plain dislike for Christine.) And yes, his lair remains intact. Do not fear! (I love the lair too much to destroy it.) You're welcome for the order of events, now allow me to explain since I don't like my readers being confused. In the play, there is no massive fire during PONR, but the whole Christine ripping off his mask and him stealing her through a trapdoor remains the same. The chandelier didn't start a fire in the play, it just destroyed a helluva lot. So Masquerade and Don Juan will most certainly still happen. The movie did take some liberties with it. (That doesn't mean I don't love the movie, let's face it . . . Gerard Butler is H O T!) In accordance with my other reviews, you know that Nasrin doesn't take to competition and jealousy very well. In this chapter, as you can see, Erik pushed her over the edge. Later, he will do something else, and she will become pretty much insane. (like intense murderous madness) And Nasirn's sacrifice? It's sort of odd, because she never said or thought, "I will sacrifice this, this and this to be with you Erik!" It is just more along the lines of her saying she'd give anything to be with him and it just happened to be something she treasured. You'll get hints of it later on, I promise. Thank you for the review, I hope this clears some more stuff up, though if you're still confused, let me know. Here is your update! Erik, once again! Hug my special reviewer!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: (smiles) Good!

**jessiejo**: LOL, yes the plan worked out. Though Nasrin almost died . . . that would have been very bad. O.o;; But she didn't and Erik saved her, YAY! Thanks for the review, here is your update. And ERIK!

Erik: I know by now. (hugs tightly)

Shade: YAY! I have employed Erik to hug all my reviewers and he's been doing a great job. Right Erik?

Erik: (nods)

Shade: Good! (claps)

**Videociraptor**: LOL, I agree. Cute in a demonic way . . . but cute. Erik was such a gentleman, saving our Nasrin. Such a good Phantom! (pats)

Erik: Don't you ever do that again.

Shade: (nervous laughter) Sorry mon ange.

Erik: And don't sweet talk me in French. You accent sucks.

Shade: Well sorry! Sheesh. Anyway, I agree, chapter 12 was one of my favorites too. But then again, some of the later chapters are (in my opinion) are great too. Huzzah for Vi-vi-kins! Now Erik will give you a hug!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: Thanks for the review, and here is your update!

**Maska**: Yes, Christine was probably like, "OMG SHINY! BUT MOVING FAST! MUST RUN!" (sorry to any hardcore Christine fans out there) And I don't think you should be concerned with Erik's issues as much as Nasrin's . . . she goes nuts . . . and I mean very . . . like murderous. And Erik just started his few chapter long pushing her to the brink. So where does one draw the line between obsession and love? I can tell you Nasrin blurs that line. Mwahaha! Thanks for the review! Here is your update! And Erik!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: Very well done Erik. We must make our reviewers feel loved and appreciated. As it would be awkward for me to hug them, I am glad you agreed.

Erik: You bribed me . . . with promises of killing Carlotta.

Shade: . . . . no I didn't . . .

Erik: Yes you did, now you'd better kill her or I'm not doing this again.

Shade: All right! (hurries off) (but doesn't really do it because Carlotta amuses her)


	14. A Burning Trance

**Shade: Just to let everyone know, I'm doing something different for this chapter. I'm going to switch POVs between Erik and Nasrin. I just want to know how it turns out. I hope you guys like it! THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO NATSUKI! JUST BECAUSE SHE IS AN AWESOME iFRIEND! THE 100th REVIEWER WILL GET A CHAPTER DEDICATION AND AN EXTRA SPECIAL GIFT! Ok, I'm done w/ that. Oh yeah, slight sexual content (as the chappy title portrays) but again, still under T rating.**

"_What sweet seduction lies_

_Before us . . ._" –The Point of No Return

Chapter 14: A Burning Trance

**Erik's POV:**

Sleeping is not something I normally do. Why waste the most beautiful hours of life in a state of incapacitation? I have never enjoyed it . . . especially after last night.

I would have loved to dream of Christine and all of her svelte beauty, her angelic voice, and her fiercely alluring mannerisms, but it was not her that danced through my mind; it was Nasrin. What I had done to our bond the previous night, what I had done to _her,_ was blatantly unforgivable. Over and over, her grief stricken face plagued my thoughts, the same crystal tears cascading elegantly from the depths of her sea-born eyes. Having stomached enough of her sorrow for one night, I forced myself into awakening.

My home was dark and cold, bereft of the warmth it had embraced when Nasrin was beside me. Some candelabras still flickered meaninglessly at me from across the sheet of silk I had erected in the threshold of the doorway.

My home's whole presence mocked me, taunted me with the memories of how Nasrin and I had begun the process of consummating our marriage. Urges to comfort her, to whisper soft words of apology vaguely overtook me and I peeled the covers back from my bed. With only my pants and my white shirt to cover me, I walked somewhat hesitantly from my room, forcing myself to embrace the coldness with which my own actions had left me.

I peered over to her dirty mess of blankets, expecting her to be curled in a tight ball, the monkey lovingly wrapped in her arms. However, she was not there and the monkey was pushed carelessly to the side of her bedding. In a feeling I felt obligated to call alarm, I searched my home for her. Already, I began to dread the painful truth. I walked by my organ, looking past it for any sign of her. A strangely bound manuscript caught my eye and I looked closer at it as it flickered in the candlelight.

"Fire Rose?" I called for a reason I didn't know. I picked up the book, running my fingers over the smooth leather binding. Holding it closer to a candle, I could read the script written on the cover. My heart twisted and my hoarse voice emerged, Nasrin's voice seeming to overtake mine. "To my 'husband.' Perhaps you were right, Erik; some statements and promises must be broken."

Hesitating, I opened the first page. There were notes scribbled on the bars, forming a simple, yet sweet melody. I put it on the organ and sat down, positioning my seasoned fingers accordingly. I began to play it softly, heeding to the dynamics she had written in. My voice rang out in the home, though it seemed Nasrin's tone-deaf voice was singing beside me.

"_Trivial angel_

_ Used and tortured_

_Yearning for love's passion._

_Without your embrace_

_I suffer mutely._

_Why have you vacillation?_"

The melody immediately changed to become darker, more entrancing. The tune was immediately recognizable. Its dark and passionate chords were identical to the ones I had formed upon singing with Christine as I brought her below. I sang again.

"_In all my time with you_

_ I couldn't see . . ._

_That man and mystery_

_Were haunting me . . ._

_No matter where I run, or how I hide_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind._"

I stopped playing and flipped through the pages. The book was full of lyrics of that nature; it was an inescapable torrent pouring from my poor bride's heart. I didn't recognize pity being the emotion that wrapped its icy fingers around my heart.

"Oh Fire Rose," I muttered, "where did you go?" As I flipped to the last page of the manuscript, I found that it had answered my question.

"_In light of all this pain_

_I'll say farewell._

_Perhaps I will return,_

_Only time will tell._

_I'll spend some time above, away from lies._

_And now, your little Fire Rose is here, inside your mind._"

She left me . . . she was gone. I couldn't help feeling as though she had deceived me in some way; I felt like she had taken advantage of _my_ hospitality, _my_ only comforts only to leave when she felt it necessary. Fueled by a dark courage, I stood, readying to leap into my gondola. A vision of her flashed before my eyes.

"_Erik, I told you I would remain no matter what your face looks like._" She had _promised _me that; that was the only reason I had shown her my face, bared my most horrifying secret to her. However, she had confided in me the same secret. Her head, my poor Nasrin's head, horrifyingly destroyed in a single cruel act of jealousy and rage. She understood my pain; she shared in my emptiness, my loneliness, and my sorrow. She had held me as I wept, done what no one else had done before. How had I repaid her? I had struck her, made her bleed as my heart did. And now . . . she was gone, forsaking the one she had promised to stand by . . . to love.

_Forsaking me . . ._

I put my head in my hands, my guilt condensing to a large lump in my throat. "Oh, my little Fire Rose," I mourned softly, slouching in defeat back on the organ bench.

xXxXx

**Nasrin's POV:**

I docked the boat in the still waters, gathering my one comfort in my arms: a score of Persian dance music. I clutched it to my chest along with a large sack of money I had taken the liberty of 'borrowing' from Erik.

Across the lake, I heard him call for me. That loving concern that I ached to hear met my longing ears and I began to weep, my heart begging me to return. But I could not . . . _would not_ return. Against all my expectations, he had harmed me. It was his right, I understand; but I hadn't expected him to display such a surge of emotion at that moment . . . I had held him, and I had been repaid with a scabbing wound on my face.

Physical pain, however, I wished was the only reason why my whole being seemed to ache. My heart was bleeding in my chest, and Erik was holding the knife that drew open the wound. I had come so close to being truly happy last night. For a few brief minutes, I felt as though I was the only person Erik wanted; _I_ was his love, and he would have lay with _me_, _loving _me. There are no words in any language I know that could possibly personify the feeling of being locked in your love's arms, feeling as though you are truly happy, and then realizing that your love has put some one else's head on your body.

The line between love and hate, I realized, is all too thin. Both are derived of fervent passion and can blossom slowly or quickly depending on another. What irony is it that the girl whom every man sought after is denied the one man she wants? I shook my head, hearing him sing the melodies I had copied from his various musical notebooks. His voice would never leave my head. His touch would always remain fresh to my senses. His kiss would lighten my dark thoughts. _How I wish,_ I thought, _that such a beautiful, passionate man could be mine._

Christine's dressing room came into view and I realized that I was standing concealed behind the mirror. I touched the mechanism to open the secret door and sighed as the glass slid away. I stepped through, jealousy pumping hard in my veins. This room, this very room, was the room of the girl who had stolen Erik's heart from me. She slept in here, she applied her makeup here . . . she sang to him from here. For some reason, I loved hating Christine; and hatred, I found, can be far more enviable than love sometimes.

Disheartened and lovesick at the same time, I knew that I had to make myself cheerful again. I couldn't allow Erik to know how much his faux pas had hurt me. An idea struck me and I quickly found my way to the main performance hall, gazing in familiarity at the rows of plush red seats. I recognized the conductor of the band immediately. His triangular haircut was a most striking feature, as well as slightly odd. I ran over to him and smiled coyly down at the musicians, who, as men born out of congealing filth, gaped at me, their eyes fervently undressing me. I couldn't help but scowl.

"May I help you, Mademoiselle?" the conductor asked. "I have never seen you around here before. Tell me, are you lost?"

"Not at all Monsieur, but I require a favor." I jingled the sack of coins and smiled, feeling every pair of eyes bore into every inch of my face.

"What type of favor?"

"If I pay you, will you all play something to which I may dance? You see, I have had a trying day and I need to relax my nerves. Could you do me a service and play this song for me?" I handed him the score, watching eagerly as he flipped through the stiff old pages.

"A trifle amount of money it is, to 'rent out' the orchestra of the Opera Populaire," he scoffed. "You understand Mademoiselle." He handed me back the score. I grinned and poured most of the coins onto his stand.

"My dear Monsieur, will this be enough?" I cooed, smiling as most of the musicians gave gasps of astonishment.

The conductor smiled. "That will do quite fine, Mademoiselle. For the next half an hour, I am yours."

I bowed my head politely. "Many thanks Monsieur, and to all your musicians, thank you as well."

There was a masculine murmur that answered me and I gratefully climbed onto the stage, shedding my black cloak and standing in my dirty turquoise top and skirt, my familiar gold bracelets jingling on my arms and ankles. Such pleasure simple comforts can bring . . .

"Tell me when you are ready Mademoi . . . oh my." The conductor trailed off as he looked at my change in outfit.

"I'm ready," I finished, smiling demurely at him. All men were alike, wanting the same thing from me. _Except for Erik_, my irritating conscious remarked.

The first chords rang out and all my sorrows were once again forgotten. The beat of the drum matched the beat of my heart and I was instantly whisked away, back to my homeland, with my familiar troop around me, all wearing brilliant shades of red, blue, and purple. Already, my body had begun to move to the music, my skirt flaring up past my knees as I twirled around. My demons must be exercised the best they could be without Erik.

Eventually, the power of the music grew, and even Erik's face faded from my mind. I was once again Nasrin the Fire Rose, the Wild One, utterly and completely untamable . . . and utterly and completely alone.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV:**

I heard it . . .

Even from below I could hear the orchestra begin to play. This new music alarmed me, for it was not the overture from the new production, "Aladin et sa Lampe Merveilleuse." It was of the same genre, the same Middle Eastern chords that I recognized. However, this was more of a passionate melody, undoubtedly used to entice lovers to entwine in their ardent duet.

Both curiosity and rage bloomed in me. I abhorred this music, having such pain entailed with its sound. I also vaguely wondered for whom this music played. However that answer struck me upon my wondering. Nasrin must have asked for it to be played. But why? Did she simply want to traipse through musty memories, or was this more a matter of revenge? Of course, it was imperative that I know. This was, after all, _my_ opera house; I should know what its inhabitants are up to.

Donning my cape and mask, I grabbed the pole and leaped into the gondola, pushing off and rowing casually through my cellar. The music grew louder, and, by the patter of footsteps above me, I could tell I wasn't the only one curious about this music. When I docked my boat, I saw my spare gondola bobbing languidly in the water. I leaned down to it, examining it.

Immediately, a strong smell struck me: the tantalizing odor of fresh picked roses. That was Nasrin's scent, I could never be more certain of it. Oh God was it a seductively sweet smell. Whenever she would bathe with it, her warm flesh seemed to radiate both intense heat and that smell. It was intoxicating. _She_ was intoxicating.

I was left breathless and I hastily fled from the boat. I ran through the cellars, readying for the task at hand. I would find Nasrin and bring her back with me. There was no possible way she could deny wanting me; and, never before being wanted, I wanted her. I ran to the gaping hole where the chandelier once hung, brilliant and pure.

Peering down, I found the stage empty but for one figure clad in turquoise, spinning around, hips swaying in a way that made me burn with desire. There were other members of the opera company that gathered around the orchestra, gaping at her.

Instantaneously a surge of protective fire blazed within me. These people didn't know with whom they trifled. Nasrin was _mine_. She was promised to me and no one should undress her with their eyes when I was here. I tore my eyes from the exotic beauty that graced the stage and ran to the flies under which she danced.

I could see her face clearly, frozen in a state of rapture, her body moving in sensual, slow, suggestive ways. Her stomach would contort and I could see her lean muscles flex as she leaned back, almost bending her voluptuous body to the point where I was certain she would snap. But still she moved, her torso moving in one of the most provocative sequences I had ever seen. Her hips would thrust out, then her stomach and then her breasts and shoulders, slowly imitating the movements of the sea until she sped up with the drums, her body a blazingly warm ocean that held me ensnared. I had never seen a woman's body move as beautifully and alluringly as hers, and it was enough for the severe pleasure I was feeling to border on unbearable pain. What new torture was this?

Her long mane of ebony hair, false as it was, twirled about her body, caressing the bare skin and driving me mad. Her fingers danced across her exposed flesh and she shook her chest, all the while never looking to see who watched her . . . who wanted her. The men who stared at her from below were in a state similar to mine, all of them yearning for their hands to touch her flesh. All of them wanted her . . . but I would not have it. _I_ wanted her . . . and I _would_ have her . . . no matter what that meant.

xXxXx

**Nasrin's POV: **

I felt the music die at last, and I laid down on my back, thrusting out my stomach once more before the last gong sounded and all was silent. I lay panting on the stage and I opened my eyes.

Above me on the flies stood Erik, with a look on his face the likes of which I had never seen. He had maintained his normal composure (and for that I should applaud him) but his eyes were different. They were roving wildly, hungrily absorbing every inch of me and I cocked my eyebrows. When his eyes met mine, I knew I had him. The look of unrestrained male desire on his face was far more intense than when he gazed at Christine; a sense of well deserved triumph washed over me.

Not wanting to betray his position, I turned my head, looking over at the orchestra, behind which stood the most profoundly moronic looking men. As usual, their mouths were hanging open and their eyes were as wide as saucers. I batted my eyelashes coyly, playing along with the dangerous game of seduction and sat up slowly, making an obvious effort to make sure my hair covered almost half of my face.

"_Yes, that's right,_" I thought, "_you pitiful bunch of panting dogs. Lust over what can never be yours._" These men could die of the plague and I wouldn't bat an eyelash. I stood on my feet, brushing my limbs free of any recently acquired filth. Noticing that the men still gaped, I vaguely wondered if any of them were raised with even the slightest hint at manners.

"Brava Mademoiselle!" I heard a rumbling masculine voice jolt me from my dark ponderings. I turned to see Firmin striding towards me, clapping me on the back and giving me a most disturbing scrutiny. I could do nothing by smile coyly and pretend that his visual inquiry didn't faze me. When he reached me, he smiled, his dark mustache curving upwards. I simpered as my mind likened his mustache to a black ferret. "It is apparent to you that we are performing a Middle Eastern play; the scenery is already completed. The only piece missing from our production is a beautiful dancer. _You_, my dear, would be divine as our lead dancer. We would pay you nine thousand francs a month. I do hope you consider this offer."

Nine thousand francs a month . . . such matters as finances were always determined through such a request as I was about to make.

"Make it an even ten thousand and you have yourself a lead dancer," I said sternly, making sure he heard the determination in my voice.

Firmin bunched his eyebrows. "Nine thousand is more than enough for a lead dancer."

Feigning nonchalance, I shrugged and grabbed my music. "I am sorry then, but nine thousand will not suffice. It is either ten thousand or no deal I am afraid." I began to walk slowly towards the entrance of the theater, not even hesitating to open the door into the light.

"Wait Mademoiselle!" Firmin bellowed after me, following my steps until he reached my side. He grabbed the door and pushed it closed. "All right, ten thousand francs even a month."

I smiled; such simplicity men were made of. "It is a deal. I am honored, Monsieur, to join the company of the Opera Populaire." I bowed respectively, still unnerved that Firmin's eyes hadn't ceased roving over me.

"Good to hear. Now, MADAME GIRY!" Firmin roared as he ushered me back to the stage. I saw from the shadows a woman emerge, a cane gripped tightly in her fist. As she stepped into the light, Firmin pushed me towards her. Upon making eye contact with me, Madame Giry paled until she was stark white.

"Madame Giry, meet our new lead dancer. She will be our head in our new production of 'Aladin.' Her name is . . ." He looked at me, silently asking me to finish his sentence.

"Nasrin Khanum, the Fire Rose," I finished silkily, smiling warmly at Giry, who was still locked in a state of shock.

"Mademoiselle Khanum, yes. A lovely name. Now, Madame, prepare for her Miss Daaé's dressing room, since the real Miss Daaé has left us for a while with the Vicomte de Chagny." He looked at me, and finally, his scrutiny was complete. He had resorted to smiling at me lustfully. I fought thundering urges to shatter his perverse grin with a firm strike across the face. "For now, unpack your belongings. We will verse you on your part in this production tomorrow."

"Thank you, Monsieur," I said, desiring to end the conversation as soon as possible.

Madame Giry placed a hand on my back and ushered me away from the stage, meeting my gaze with frightened reservation.

"What plot have you and Erik devised this time?" she asked softly.

"There is no plot, Madame. I assure you. I have left Erik for the time being." I hesitated. "We engaged in a most startling quarrel last night, and the encounter has left me rather disgusted by him and his conduct."

"Does he know you're here?" she hissed.

I stopped, remembering the look on his face when I gazed up at him, that look of raw desire threatening to usurp his elegance and give way to a passion I had wanted to see. Realizing I had submerged myself in my own thoughts, I scrambled for an answer.

"Yes, he knows," I answered quickly.

"And he approves?" she asked, aghast.

"That is no longer my concern," I felt myself spit, a great deal harsher than I had originally intended.

"If you are still married, it is indeed his concern," Giry pointed out.

"Perhaps you are right, and if he doesn't approve of me acting thus, let him say so."

As if on cue, a large backdrop fell from the flies, crashing onto the stage and causing utter tumult upon impact. I reluctantly admitted to myself that this violent proclamation had left me somewhat unnerved.

Madame Giry's and my eyes met and I feared that if I should return to Erik, violence would be my welcoming, and I knew now that there was no turning back.

"Here is your room, Mademoiselle. Although now I hesitate to give it to you, seeing as though the mirror . . ." Giry looked at the dressing room mirror.

"I know. I'll be all right. Thank you for all you have done. I am very tired, and I wish to retire for the day." I bowed and smiled warmly at Giry.

She returned my bow. "All right. Sleep well, Madame Khanum. I will send to you our new resident: Comte Jean de Lamarier. He has temporarily cast aside his fortune to pursue a career in carpentry. I will make sure that he makes your stay comfortable."

"Oh Madame, there really is no need for such a gesture. I'll be all right." I lowered my voice to a whisper barely audible to her. "After all, I do have my own guardian angel."

Giry looked hesitantly at the mirror. "Will you at least allow him the pleasure of an honorable introduction?"

I rolled my eyes, already foreseeing how this encounter would result. "All right all right. I will bath and change into my nightly attire. If he so desires, bring him to me."

"At once." And with that, Giry left, and I was standing in Christine's . . . pardon me . . . _my_ dressing room. I tossed my cloak casually on the large, soft bed and turned to the full vanity, examining my haggard self in the mirror. It was time I should bathe, then change into my sleeping clothing. Only, I didn't have any. I sighed, grabbing one of Christine's night gowns and removing my top and skirt, leaving myself shivering in naught but my undergarment.

I paused before grabbing the pure white robe. I could feel someone's eyes boring into my body, and it wasn't a chaste stare. I looked around the room, finding no one was there. Suddenly, my eyes found the mirror, and I smiled.

"_So you are there_," I thought. "_All right then_. _Time to make you want what you lost._"

I walked over to the mirror and leaned my forehead against the cool glass surface, nuzzling into it and sighing, my breath fogging its clean surface. I turned my back to the mirror and moved slowly against it, my hips moving in figure 8s. Just as I felt the mirror warm from my body heat, I spun away from it, twirling around the room. I grabbed a rose meant for Christine and threw it at the mirror. Giddy, I began to laugh as I spun faster. As dizziness overcame me, I fell against the mirror. I was alarmed to feel something on the other side of the glass, another heat source whose blood beat hard against the veins.

Feeling as though I had tortured Erik enough, I fled into the bathroom, dipping myself into a hot path that had been prepared for me. The torrid heat of the water sent chills up my spine and I eagerly submerged myself, practically screaming in ecstasy. I had never before bathed in hot water; I now pledged that I would do it every night henceforth. I grabbed a vial of rose body wash and poured it slowly on my body, shivering as the cold oil contrasted the heat of my skin. I washed the dirt from my skin and sighed in contentment as I felt myself become clean for the first time in weeks. After my body was cleansed I submerged my head in for a moment, enjoying the thrill of completely clean heat. When I breached the surface, my wig slipped slightly on my head and I quickly replaced it.

When I felt myself become weak with the intense heat, I grabbed my towel and climbed out of the bath, noting with disgust how the water had turned dark with grime. I walked over to the main part of my chamber and sat down on the bed. My hair was dripping and some wet strands clung to my moist face. Overcome with fatigue, I fell back on the bed, breathing slightly heavier as the heat exhausted me. I held my mass of faux hair in front of me squeezing the moisture out of it and leaving it damp to drape across my flesh.

As I began to doze off, someone covering my body with theirs jolted me awake. I panicked and began to thrash until I felt familiar lips press against mine. They were shaking, eager, and I responded immediately by pushing my tongue into his mouth. I felt strong, leather covered hands grab me behind my knees and push me farther up the bed before he pressed against me again, smothering me with cloth. I pulled away to look into Erik's flushed face, his eyes dark with a stark uncensored need. He kneaded on my stomach, causing a pleasurable pain to knot inside of me. I pulled his mouth to mine, feeling the knot tighten with each time his hands touched my flesh. I was surrounded in a cocoon, fabricated of black cloth and sheltered by a passionate man. Overcome, I grabbed his gloves and tore them from his hands; I have always hated the fact that he wore them every time he touched me.

His hands, bare and rough traced my collar bone and my arms, moving down to my waist and my legs as his lips memorized the curves of my neck. I felt him open my towel and press himself against my naked skin. This need . . . this _horrible_, wicked need pulsed through me and I couldn't restrain myself. I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him to me. His lips moved to my chest and I fought screaming as the knot tightened more. My heart began to thunder as he palmed my breast while hungrily devoured my neck. I couldn't help it; I moaned, my hand finding the back of his head, pulling him closer to me.

"Mademoiselle, are you alone?" a male voice on the other side of the door called.

I sat straight up, upsetting Erik's balance and causing him to practically fall from my bed. My eyes caught his and he gritted his teeth angrily. Wordlessly, he fled behind the mirror and I was once again alone, catching my breath and covering myself with my night robe. I looked in the mirror, making certain my wig was on straight.

"Yes, I am alone. Who calls?" I panted back.

"Monsieur Jean Lamarier, Mademoiselle! I come to welcome you."

"If you give me but a quick moment you may enter." I quickly tied the nightgown over me, snickering as I concluded that in accordance with breasts, Christine was severely lacking in comparison to me. The gown almost couldn't cover me. Hastily, I draped my hair over my front, concealing the overly provocative garment. "Yes, come in!" I called.

A man opened the door and, much to my amusement, he was slightly attractive. He had fair tawny locks spilling down to his shoulders and grey eyes that seemed to both sparkle and remain apathetic at once. He smiled brightly at me and I felt the fingers of a blush creep slowly to my face, though I fought it with all my strength. He opened his arms and smiled. "Mademoiselle, welcome to the Opera Populaire. I have been charged with making sure you are comfortable."

I smiled, rejoicing in the fact that he hadn't begun to rudely stare at my assets. "Well met Comte de Lamarier. I assure you, I am quite comfortable here. Actually, I was readying to retire when you knocked. If I should need your assistance, I will be sure to alert you."

He smiled and his eyes wandered down from my face. I felt myself sigh with exasperation and he caught my gaze, flushing livid crimson. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I conjecture many men give you the same scrutiny?"

"You couldn't be more correct, Monsieur. Though after a while, it begins to become less flattering and more irritating. The only man to not give me such an obvious and rude visual inquiry is my husband."

I saw Jean's expression crumble before me, and a part of me almost felt bad. Almost. "Your husband? But you still wear your chastity beads."

"Yes," I admitted bitterly, damning to hell the wooden chains. "He and I have not joined. However, I am still bound to him." I turned away from him in time to feel the nightshirt tear from the size of my chest. My face heated in embarrassment and I hastily removed the rest of it, grabbing another shirt as quickly as I could. Before I adorned my bare chest with the tunic, I became aware that Jean still watched me. Anger bubbled inside me and I turned around slowly, covering my breasts with my hands.

"Why do you still linger when I stand half nude in front of you? Please show yourself the door!" I barked, sounding angrier than I actually was.

Jean bowed his head, his yellowish-brown hair hiding his crimson complexion. "Of course Mademoi . . . Madame. Forgive me; sleep well." He stumbled over to the door and hastily closed it behind him. From behind the door, he called back to me, "And please, call me Jean!"

"As you wish Jean," I answered in irritation, covering my exposed torso with the nightshirt. I scowled at his boyish persistence and satisfied myself with thoughts of severing most of his rather feminine hair.

"And what may I call you?" he asked hopefully. My patience was waning. And _quickly_.

"Madame Fire Rose," I snarled. "Now, good night!"

"Good night, fair Madame Fire Rose!" Jean called before departing from my door at long last.

I sighed and looked into the vanity mirror, allowing my eyes to scrutinize my features carefully. The conversation reflected in my head. He was a kind gentlemen, although a bit taken with fashion. He was a count; it was to be expected. He had respected my space and once realizing that his hungry looks bothered me, he had ceased. I smiled, not knowing why his smiling face made me grin and make butterflies flit about in my abdomen.

"Fair Madame Fire Rose," I repeated fondly. "It sounds a bit more respectful than 'little Fire Rose', I think." I shot a sweet look at the mirror, assuming Erik had elected to watch the whole encounter in secret. Our previous meeting had shown me that he wanted me to want him. I snickered. If he wants my love to be manifest, he must work for it with sweat and blood, as I worked for his love in the same fashion.

Immediately, I felt fatigue wrap around me and I yawned. Heeding to my body's desires, I blew out her candles and crawled into the luxurious bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

When I awoke early the next morning, I felt a familiar weight nestled in my arms. I held the stuffed monkey at arms length, examining its simplistic features. As I looked at it, I found that the cymbals were holding a note. I dreaded what the note would say, I confess, but I read it aloud to myself quietly in my room.

"You will always be 'little Fire Rose' to me. –Erik"

For a reason rooted solely in mystery, I felt myself begin to cry. Once more I found myself weakened before him, as if escape was a fruitless attempt at deceiving destiny. I was meant to be with him; I knew it because I loved him more than I had loved anything before. He lusted after me; it wasn't the same. It could never be. Taking a silent, tearful vow, I made a pact with myself to avoid Erik at all costs. I do not want to be hurt again.

A/N: Thanks to my lovely reviewers! You brighten up my day!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! Raoul abuses Christine and locks her in a closet and she leaves him for Erik, ergo the phantom fires her out of a cannon. XD! That is probably one of the funniest concepts ever! Kudos to you! Yes, you and Nasrin would make Christine's death rather . . . amusing to say the least, lol. And you know Erik, if some one shows some slight understanding of him, he uses and obsesses over them. Don't worry, cuz you know Nasrin too, and she takes nothing from no one. Mwahaha! And yay for people who like angst! This chapter and the next few are FULL OF IT! It is like the angst squared story! Hey, crazy people are yay. (waves hand) I am a fellow crazy girl. Hehehe . . . ramen. BWAHAHA! (cough) Ahem, excuse me. Anyway, so glad you liked the chapter, always good to hear. And Erik doing the 1, 2 step? Let's see how it works out! Erik!

Erik: NO MORE HUGS!

Shade: No Erik, do the one two step.

Erik: What the hell is that?

Shade: (turns on Ciara) (shows Erik)

Erik: And you want me to do that?

Shade: (nods)

Erik: (sighs) Fine! (tries it) (falls over) (X).x

Shade: Oh, poor baby! (puts ice pack on head) (sweat drop) Well, I guess nineteenth century Frenchmen can't exactly get down the hip hop way. However, it was very amusing to watch, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update! Just don't send your rats after me! .

**Jessica**: I know, how could he. Well, he is still greatly enamored with Christine. Grr, I find that fact frustrating as well. Nasrin will be fine, but she thanks you for your sympathy. (bows) Thank you for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: You are very welcome! Erik loves to hug his loyal phans.

Erik: I do?

Shade: (kicks) yes!

Erik: OW! (whimpers) I do.

Shade: Oh! Sorry baby! I didn't mean it. (nervous laughter) Yeah, Erik got a little emotional last chapter to say the least. . I put the warning just as a precaution, just in case. Yeah, his "Rar! Oh wait, I'm sorry!" attitude I found to come through in the movie a lot. So I used that because the Erik in this story is a hybrid of all my favorite phantoms . . . mostly Gerard Butler and Hugh Panaro in appearance, so it was easy for me to see the rarrness of both. (I've seen Hugh twice recently, so he's fresh in my mind.) If these chapters are making you cry, I'll be sure to supply you with a lot tissues for later. (nods) Thanks for the review, here is your update!

**littledarkone**: Glad that was one of your favorites. Welcome to my story! XD! I loved the "Ooh, the angst, the sadness, the (short-lived passion) . . ." It probably wasn't meant to be humorous, but I found it amusing. . I'm weird, bear with me, lol. And the passion will continue! YAY!

Nasrin: (celebrates to herself)

Shade: Thanks for the review, so glad you love it so far. And since you didn't get a hug before. Here is one now!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: Good job Erik. (bows) Here is your update!

**Maidenhair**: It's all right, working is not yay. I completely understand, there is no need to apologize. (pats) Glad you liked the chappy, and because you missed last chappy's hugging session, Erik will hug you if you like.

Erik: Not again.

Shade: HUG NOW!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: Good, now here is your update! I hope it can provide a slight solace for you after you work. Hopefully, lol.

**DragonheartRAB**: It's all right, no need to apologize. Yes, interesting pretty much sums up this chapter, I will concur. And I was mad at Erik too. That one mistake caused the hugest chain of events it's ridiculous, lol. Stupid Erik, sometimes, you do NOT YAY ME! It's all right, wait until Nasrin meets Christine . . . Bwhaha! Christine does tend to ruin things though . . . like the Angel of Music mystique that I find so hot . . . stupid bitch. Anyway, thanks for the review. Here is your update!

**Ethlas Tuath'an**: She's seducing him to make her want her in vain the way she wanted him in vain. It's kinda evil. But as you can see in this chapter, it works! And bad Erik is right! We should scold him! That was NOT a yay thing to do! Those two words trigger the most terrible chain of events! (as you will see) As for the dream, you'll just have to wait and see. Fate conspires in the oddest ways. (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-magel16**: I'm glad that you're glad to be part of the reviewing family . . . (has succeeded in temporarily confusing herself. .) So happy you loved the last chapter. Names do tend to have a way of disrupting a rather desirable situation. (Sorry your ex did that to you. That must have been hard.) I have never felt that way . . . not having a serious boyfriend. Anyway, I am blathering. Thanks for the review and here is your update! (dances with you)


	15. Eternal Love

**Shade: This chapter is dedicated to Mademoiselle Justicia who gave me my 100th review! Pats for you! Everyone else, thank you all so much for reviewing! You all made it possible! (I know 100 isn't that big of an accomplishment, considering some other fanfics . . . but it's my first so bear with me as I celebrate.) (celebrates)**

**Oh and on a random note, since you guys enjoyed me writing 1st person so much, (at least from what you told me) I'll stay in 1st person, though the characters will switch from time to time. Of course, I'll always alert you. Are you ready for some angst? Then, let's get ready, and go!**

"_Let me be your shelter_

_ Let me be your light . . ._" –All I Ask of You

Chapter 15: Eternal Love

The next few months I spent in the Opera Populaire were devoid of any contact with Erik. Perhaps he had retired to his lair and resorted to licking his wounds in a corner. I tried to pretend that I didn't care, that his absence didn't worry or hurt me. But who can really pretend that they are all right when so much of them is missing? I hadn't realized that Erik held so much of my heart until I was forced to live without him.

I cried in my room each morning I awoke and was unable to recall the way his hands felt against my skin, the sound of his voice against my ear, and my lips could no longer recollect the way his kiss fell upon them. I didn't want this . . . I didn't want him to fade . . . but some one saw it fit; I hated the arcane source with everything I was.

Time passed slowly, dully, as if my world that had been full of vibrant colors faded to gray and the quick days of happiness were fatigued, resorted to trudging slowly across the breadth of infinity.

I had promised myself that I would never return to his lair, never fall prey to his alluring tactics that would ensure my stay. He wanted me to keep me, not to love me, and that fact had branded itself in my heart and mind, searing the fragile flesh of my piteous dream of happiness.

Though I loved the members of the Opera Populaire, they couldn't hope to fill the void that Erik and all he entailed had left behind.

In order to keep myself occupied, I taught the eager, yet slightly irritating ballerinas my dancing technique. Soon after, I would see them belly dancing in the dormitories rather than practicing their ballet. They couldn't dance well at all, unfortunately, though they seemed to be quite pleased with themselves. I was torn between being flattered or aggravated.

One particular day, the rest of the ballet rats had left to go to the park for a rare day of freedom. The only one that had remained was my most persistent and eager novice, Meg Giry. Her bright blue eyes would bore into mine most uncomfortably when I would demonstrate the positions and sequences she was so eager to learn. I was told she was the best confident of Christine; but I don't quite understand how she could stand the presence of such a bumbling, untalented creature. My prior statement could be directed towards either girl.

"Remember Meg," I told her calmly, "your body must move like the waves in the sea. First your hips, then your stomach, and finally your breasts. Move them in a sequence, like this." Again, I demonstrated the move, not understanding why her body couldn't move with the same grace and sensuality.

"Madame Fire Rose!" Jean called from behind me. His soothing voice sent unwanted chills up my spine and I shivered. His voice . . . _why_ . . ._ how_ . . . could his voice trigger the same sensations as my beloved Erik?

"Yes Jean?" I answered smoothly, turning to face him. I hadn't realized he had planted himself quite so close to me. Upon turning to face him, my lips brushed his. I drew back immediately, feeling a searing blush burn my cheeks. I hadn't known Erik's lips to be so soft, so . . . _inviting_. The singular sensation called desire was all that drove Erik's lips to mine. This . . . this was different, more composed and gentle, yet with the same compassion and longing. I hate to say that I found myself rather flattered, as well as nervous at the slight brush.

I realized that, once again, my thoughts had consumed me and I looked up at Jean, who flushed as scarlet as I presumed myself to be. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for any taunt or jest he would throw upon me.

As I inhaled his scent, I found it to be comprised of a mixture of wood and blood. I felt a jolt stab mercilessly at my stomach as I remembered my dream the night Erik and I quarreled. His scent was identical to the man who lay with me. Could Jean be the one I dreamt of? And if so, why would I lay with him? I didn't love him . . . not yet at least.

I examined him in order to perhaps figure out why he smelled so. Upon my scrutiny, I found that he had a shallow cut on his chest, which was undoubtedly where the blood stench had come from. Madame Giry had related to me that he had temporarily left his fortune to become a carpenter, which would explain the wood.

"I . . . I was wondering if it would please you to come to dinner with me?" Jean flushed dark scarlet and took a step back, his hand scratching the back of his head. He looked very much like an unsure little boy; I found it rather charming, as most men who approach me are overly confident in their own ability to pin me down and satisfy themselves in me.

Though I was tempted to acquiesce and give in immediately, Erik's face flashed through my mind and I felt my insides churn, as if his image both disturbed and weakened me. Reluctantly, I began to lose control of myself and I fell back against the wall.

"Madame, are you well?" Jean asked me with concern that made the stone walls of my heart melt.

"I'm fine, Jean, don't make a fuss. As for your offer . . . Jean, you know that I am a Madame. I have pledged my body and heart to another. I cannot."

His expression fell, and this time, I felt pity jab at my exposed heart. He moved his head forward imploringly, his eyebrows knitted in innocent, yet determined beseeching. I found myself weakening when I looked in his eyes, the same weakness that led me to obey and love Erik in every way.

"Won't you reconsider?" he asked, pleading despair in his gray eyes. "It's just dinner. I'm not asking you to bear my children or sleep with me. I'm only asking you for your company as we eat." I could see his eyes glitter for a brief moment, as if he saw my weakening and knew it would only take a slight more tapping for my wall to crumble. Handsome bastard.

"I don't know . . . Jean . . . you have been kind to me and I like you but . . . something feels wrong about this." I presented my case far more tasteful than I was tempted. "No."

I assumed he would stalk off, dejected, but instead he persisted. I realized that Comtes are usually accustomed to getting what they want, when they want. Well, that would certainly provide an adequate explanation of his determination.

"Please. I have never seen your husband; I don't know where he is or who he thinks he is to leave such a beautiful girl alone for so long." He reached out to touch my face. For a moment, I allowed it, just to feel what his hands felt like upon my flesh.

When his fingers outlined my jaw line, I was alarmed to find that there was no desirable sensation about it. In fact, when he touched me, something seemed wrong . . . wrong in a deadly and fear instilling type way. His touch . . . I almost couldn't admit it . . . _frightened_ me. I immediately ended the contact, looking into his gray eyes, apathetic once more.

"Whether you see Erik or not, he is always with me, in here." I pointed to my head. "And here." I curled my fingers on my chest, circling the area under which my heart beat, steadfast and strong.

"You are in love with him?" Jean asked, crestfallen. His shoulders slumped and his whole persona seemed to sag, as if the vigor had been strangled from him. After his gentle caress, I was no longer sorry. I would answer him, but play along with the piteous little girl game that he played into so much.

"I am; but he can never love me. I know that, and reluctantly accept it." I bowed my head in mock sorrow; perhaps Jean would be my answer to Erik's Christine. He had but to admit he loved me . . .

"Then come with me. I can love you . . . I do love you, Madame Fire Rose. I don't care that you are married. I love you; I will love you until the flesh crumbles from my bones." He approached me with intense passion gleaming in his eyes. I was flattered, yet unnerved all at once. I felt my instincts scream against him, but the benign look in his eyes made me smile. Now that the pieces were set, it was time to play the game.

I pretended to be shocked, overcome by his comment, and I clutched my hand to my breast, my mouth hanging languidly open.

"You barely know me. How can you make such a devotional, passionate claim?"

"Because I see the rest of my life in your eyes," Jean answered, touching my cheek once more. I fought back an impending shiver.

Once again, the benign look returned to his eyes, and his touch softened. I no longer felt fear or unease at the slightest, and I felt as though I could just stay this way all day. I suddenly had the strangest urge to fall gracefully into his arms. I detached myself from the wall and walked slowly up to him, my eyes never straying from his. I wouldn't risk my body for revenge if my body were to come to certain harm.

Surprisingly, he smiled warmly, opening his arms and enclosing me in the most tender embrace I had ever experienced. It was then I saw it: he wanted nothing more than to hold me. He had no dark and sinister ulterior motive as I had wrongfully predicted. Jean just wanted my love. My, my, my, doesn't this situation seem familiar? As I wrapped my arms around his back, I prayed Erik was watching somewhere, his eyes absorbing this hateful sight. I saw him darting about the flies and for a moment, our eyes met. I was certain that mine were narrowed with anger.

"I'll go to dinner with you, Jean. When do you want to leave?" I pulled away from the embrace and looked up at Jean fondly.

"Whenever you're ready. I'll be waiting outside for you." Jean released me and smiled warmly . . . a smile that made my heart thrum. This was a man who loved me. I was jolted out of my reverie the moment his fingers began to run through my hair. In a moment, I pulled out of his reach, yanking his hand out of my tresses. I wasn't surprised that he looked perplexed. I needed an explanation, and quickly.

"Please forgive me, I don't like people touching my hair," I said lamely. "I'll meet you outside in a half an hour."

Jean simply smiled at me, his eyes devoid of any type of dark suspicion. Perhaps he truly was a dolt after all. Whatever caused him to believe the worst lie that had passed my lips, I was thankful for it and said a silent prayer. If Jean was to be my answer to Christine, he must not see what lies beneath my wig. If I lost him, it would only be a matter of moments before the rest of the opera discovered my distortion, and then I would have no choice but to returned like a whipped puppy to Erik.

My pride does not settle for such unbearable circumstances as the aforementioned.

Jean bowed benevolently and strode off, his hair remaining miraculously immaculate to the breeze he stirred in his strides.

It was then I realized that Meg had stood by my side throughout the encounter; as I turned to her, I found her smiling widely at me, her eyes retaining the same saucer-like shape.

"Go on!" She ushered me in the direction of Christine's room. "You mustn't keep a Comte waiting, you know!"

"All right, all right!" I called back, hurrying off without another look back. I raced through the corridors, feeling as though my shadow could scarce keep up. Once in my room, I laughed loudly, elated that the pieces I had set fell into play exactly as I had planned. I twirled around, my skirt sweeping up over my knees.

"Why so cheerful, my lovely bride?" a demonic voice spat from an unknown source. Erik. As predictable as always, he had listened into the whole conversation, and now it was my turn to be unreachable, 'infatuated' with another so much that it would be impossible to take another lover.

"Oh who could that be? Is it Erik? The man who abandons his bride for four months? I am elated to hear from you again, my darling! Perhaps I should tell you, I am going out to dinner with Comte Jean Lamarier. He has pledged to me his eternal love. Which is far more than I can say for you." I put on dress earrings after I pointed to the mirror, his favorite and only hiding place to my knowledge.

"So . . . you are abandoning me as well? Must I lose both my Angel of Music and my Fire Rose? Are you doing this to spite me?" He sounded utterly miserable, and I felt my healing heart split open once more as his voice induced gooseflesh on my limbs. However, rage got the better of my pity as I recalled the reason for my departure.

"You lost me when you called me Christine!" I ran to the mirror and struck the glass, teeth gritted in loathing. "I would have given myself to you; but you denied me! I am sick of waiting for something that will never be! You will never love me, I know!" I hit the mirror again, becoming mad with rage.

"Little Fire Rose . . ."

I didn't want to hear that damned nickname again. I didn't want to be his 'pet,' his 'companion', his 'comfort' anymore.

"My name is Nasrin! Nasrin Khanum! That is my name, not little Fire Rose!" I screeched, beating at the mirror. "I am not just some little girl! I am your bride, your wife! I was given to you to be your lover and your friend! But you won't even touch me with love and affection! It's only lust, and I am bloody sick of it all!"

There was silence behind the mirror and I shook, grabbing a candle holder, readying to shatter the glass impediment which stood menacingly before me.

"Answer me, dammit!" I bellowed as I grabbed the lever for the mirror and pulled with short, powerful yanks. It was stuck . . . odd . . . that lever was never stuck. "Erik! Get back here right now! I'm not done with you!"

"I'm still here; I'm just barring the way so that you don't get in." His voice was strangely calm, yet I could tell he withheld an intense emotion, for his voice quivered.

"Why? Are you frightened of me?" I shrieked even though I knew it not to be true. Erik would never fear a little, irate girl like me.

"You would seduce your own father if it meant revenge against me. You disgust me, Fire Rose. I . . . I don't want you as a wife anymore." His last sentence was choked out, and I could hear both his anger and his pain.

I froze, the candle holder shaking in my fist. No . . . he didn't . . . he couldn't. "Erik . . . don't say that. I was given to you for a reason." I approached the mirror and peered up, trying to catch a glimpse of his powerful, yet beautiful reflection beyond the mirror.

"And here I thought that I could make you understand the veracity of it all." His voice became whimsical; he knew I was his now. I had been so weakened and insulted by his accusation that I was nothing but a worthless slave prostrated at his feet. He alone could bring me to my knees.

I grabbed at the lever again, pulling it to the point of snapping it. The mirror slid aside with ease and I gazed into the wretched blackness of my personified despair. The corridor was devoid of any presence. "Erik!" I called; only the rats answered.

From all around me, his voice boomed angrily, "If you come down here, I will not receive you! From this day forth, you are no longer my wife!"

I fell to my knees, not even noticing as rats scampered across my legs. I remained still for a moment, struck dumb by his proclamation. No . . . this wasn't happening. It's not real, I assured myself. He would return . . . he must.

_You would seduce your own father if it meant revenge against me . . ._

Those words ran in my head over and over and over until I was shaking, my blood roaring and pounding hard against my veins. How _DARE_ he say such a degrading statement to _me_. No one makes a fool of me and comes out of it unscathed.

I knew he still wanted me, his voice betrayed it. One way I could torment him was bring harm to that which he desired. Perhaps it would be easy . . . perhaps I could just run recklessly down the labyrinth until one of his traps took me. No matter what I did, it was war now. He would be the victim of my madness. However, for now, I had to feign nonchalance once more and simply leave for dinner.

I walked out of the mirror, closed it gently behind me and grabbed a sheet of small paper. I dipped a large quill into a well of red ink and wrote him a quick note, wetting the back with my saliva and stuck it to the mirror. It was clearly not the strongest adhesive, but it was all I had.

When I was fully dressed I looked at myself in the vanity mirror, that empty look returning to my eyes. Now, I was the living dead . . . nothing more than a brilliant imitation of my former self. I hated my reflection . . . abhorred myself in every way.

Looking down, I realized that I still held the candle holder tightly in my fist. I looked up at the mirror, an evil grin twitching at the corners of my mouth. Drawing back and gathering all the force I had, I hurled the object at the mirror, laughing as the glass shattered my twisted reflection into hundreds of irreparable pieces. I quickly strode out of the room, my head raised high in venomous defiance.

I met Jean by the door, watching for a brief moment as he scuffed the dirt with his heel. Upon seeing me in the doorway, his face lit up in a brilliant smile. He walked towards me, arms open and welcoming. Tilting his head down in a bow, he extended his arm, willing me to take it.

"Let us go now, Madame."

Madame . . . not any longer. "Please, just call me Nasrin," I implored desperately, insistent on forgetting Erik completely, erasing him from my mind until his name didn't even register in my head.

Jean smiled at me, and I vaguely wondered if he truly loved smiling at me, or if it was some Comte etiquette I was unaware of. "Nasrin. Such a beautiful name; it suits a beautiful girl."

"Thank you," I replied weakly.

Jean helped me into the carriage and soon it was off, thundering down the cobblestone street and jerking me all over the place. I much preferred walking. I hungrily absorbed all the sights of Paris, having not looked upon them before in the darkness. Darkness brought the best and worst out of everything within it. I knew that to be true, and Paris included. But it still remained beautiful in its complex splendor.

Throughout dinner I smiled coyly at Jean, putting on a pleasant façade as I ate and conversed with him. The last conversation I had with Erik drilled itself into my mind, repeating itself again and again until I felt sick to my stomach.

_You disgust me, Fire Rose . . ._

That night, all the food turned to ash in my mouth as I fought back a massive flood of tears.

My pride would not allow me to cry . . .

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

My heart was numb, my senses dulled to almost nonexistent.

I had freed myself from her . . . I had liberated myself from the chains that bound me fervently to my Dark Aphrodite, or as I called her aloud, my Fire Rose. But my little Fire Rose was mine no longer.

Why was it that I felt no relief?

I stumbled down to my lair, a large part of me yearning to go back and retract my hateful words. I knew that I damaged her pride . . . it was evident in the broken look on her face when I left her.

_I shattered her . . ._

I reached my bed and collapsed in it, defeated and overcome. I stared up at the rocks above me, falling into memories . . .

I had come to Nasrin tonight to offer her to come back home. I wanted . . . no . . . needed her beside me again. I was determined to do anything to show her that she belongs with me, not with that despicable Comte, who seemed to feel it was his right to take her away from me. I would never allow that to happen a second time.

Earlier that day, I had walked around the flies, searching for her on the stage and in her dressing room. However, she was not at either location. Suddenly, I heard her voice, gentle and soft. Gooseflesh raised on my skin as her voice caressed my ears. I watched her from above, her unknown guardian angel. I saw her trying to teach that useless rat: Meg Giry, how to dance as she did. Meg attempted to mimic her and I had sneered to myself; no one could move as sensually and as beautifully as my Dark Aphrodite: my night born goddess of passion, sensuality, and love.

Then I heard him; that disturbingly feminine Comte de Lamarier. I watched as Nasrin turned to face him, and growled as he stepped closer to make it seem as though their lips connected on accident. By the way Nasrin had flushed, she had fallen into his pitiful snare. My blood boiled as I heard him extend an invitation to _my bride_ for dinner.

I saw her clearly hesitate, and I smiled malevolently to myself; I knew she thought of me.

_My power over you . . . grows stronger yet_ . . . I mouthed to her, though she knew not where I hid. I heard her agree! She agreed to his invitation! Was she actually attracted to this womanly creature? I was both disgusted and horrified with her.

When I had lost control a few months ago and abandoned my cover just to feel her beneath me, she had responded with such passion that I almost hesitated; but her kiss assured me that this was what she wanted. I had opened her towel and seen her, nude and quivering underneath me. I had never seen a real naked woman before, having only been educating in their anatomy by the statues scattered throughout Paris and some Persian word of mouth as to how to please one. She had wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me closer to her as I kissed her neck, hungry for the taste of her flesh.

If that insolent Comte hadn't knocked on the door, I would have had her . . . I have never wanted some one so horribly, and I knew she wanted me just as badly. We would have become husband and wife, complete in every way . . . but due to the Comte's interruption, I had fled to my lair.

I have never felt so vulnerable before, so weak at the thought of her. I had decided that I couldn't afford feeling that weak around such a sly creature; and so, I avoided her for four months, watching her from behind the mirror every night, only to see her wake up and cry as my memory faded from her mind. It was then that I had known that we both needed each other.

And so on this day I had planned to take her once more, with futile hopes of happiness and fulfillment. That was my first act of insolence.

When I watched my Nasrin embrace Jean after accepting his proposal, she had met my gaze for an instant . . . only an instant, but disgusting flashes of anger and pain were communicated through a blink of an eye, from her eyes to mine. I fled from the flies, infuriated and enraged at her.

I remained in waiting behind her mirror, waiting for her to return. It was imperative that she and I speak. Soon enough, she had come, laughing as brightly as silver bells in the summer wind. It was enough to make me want to take her right then and there. Obviously, I am far too composed for such rash actions.

I had spoken with her, and she responded in snide, accusing remarks, the type which she uses when her heart hurts. Finally, she snapped, beating at the mirror and screaming in anger, her eyes dark with black hate. Her temper had startled me; I had never seen her display such tactless violence towards me.

_This must end . . ._ a voice in my mind had said. _You failed her in every way . . . you must let her go. Clearly, her heart resides with the Comte. If you love her . . . release her_.

Did I love her? I didn't know . . . I wasn't certain. One fact I knew was true: _I_ had been the reason for this outburst. It was I who had caused her such anguish. It was no wonder to me that her heart was with Jean; he loved her. I knew that fact and hated it vehemently.

Then, a truth struck my sick heart and flared up a fire of infernal rage. She was leading Jean into believing she loved him to spite me . . . to make me miserable and want her. She had achieved what she had set out; I began to hate her. I would release her . . . yes . . . but not for the reason the voice had said. I would release her because I no longer wanted to be bound to such an immoral and evil creature.

"You would seduce your own father if it meant revenge against me. You disgust me, Fire Rose. I . . . don't want you as a wife anymore." That was something I never believed I would ever say to her.

Then I saw it; I saw that I had made a terrible mistake. The look on her face was destroyed. Her jaw dropped and her eyes began to dart, her chest heaving. I had decimated her rage in an instant and left her in nothing but shock.

However, I could not retract my words now, I had to hold true to them. She moved to approach the mirror and I backed away into blackness, fading just out of her sight when she opened the glass.

She called out to me, my name drawn out long and beautiful on the wings of her voice.

My voice boomed back, still enraged at the prospect of her abandonment for revenge. "If you come down here, I will not receive you! From this day forth, you are no longer my wife!"

She had fallen on her knees, abandoning her rage in favor of her hurt confusion. I wanted so horribly to emerge and lead her home, to where she truly belonged: with me.

However, I had walked away, completely disregarding her kneeling figure, her head hung low in despair. That was my second act of insolence.

And now I was here, laying in my bed, defeated as well and attempting to sleep off my worries.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash from above and I sat up immediately. Something was very wrong; I had never heard a noise from above reach me with such frightening volume. I hurried to the mirror and looked beyond it. There was a piece of parchment stuck to the glass. As I reached out and grabbed it, I saw that Nasrin had gone, and the vanity mirror was destroyed, shattered into hundreds of jagged shards, irreparable even for me. Among the shimmering glass was the candle holder she had wielded against me previously. Her rage had not quelled.

I suddenly felt weak at the thought of looking at the note she obviously had left for me. I presumed it to be a death wish, a promise of revenge, of pain. But as I turned it over, growling at the red ink, which existed to taunt me, I read the note.

"_Erik,_

_If that is what you want, than let it be so. I only pray for one thing, darling: that my memory of you fades as quickly as your memory of me undoubtedly will._

_Nasrin Khanum, Mademoiselle_"

Enraged, I grabbed a torch form the side of the chamber and lit the letter on fire, grinning madly as the red ink bubbled like blood in the flames. When it was nothing more than ash, I placed the torch back on the wall and walked desolately back to my lair. I thought myself angry when truly, it was heartache that kept me awake and staring at the rock above me.

My pride would not allow me to cry . . .

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I love you all!**

**Maidenhair**: Yes Erik hugged you, for reviewing my chapter. Whether or not he forgives you is up to debate.

Erik: People have done worse to me . . .

Shade: Well there you go! Huzzah! Well, thanks for the review and here is your update! Yo ho yo ho and a bottle of rum! Argh!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! Your reviews amuse me, you know that? XD! I loved it! Erik swing dancing? What's next break dancing?

Erik: SHH Shut up!

Shade: O.O OH sorry! (nervous laughter) Anyway . . . XD! Christine stuffing her bra? LMAO! That is a hilarious though! It'd be like . . .

Erik: I am your Angel of Music. Come to me . . .

Christine: Just wait a second. (shoves tissues in her nightgown) Much better. All right, you were saying?

Erik: (O).O Never mind.

Shade: OMG that would have been the most hilarious alternative in the movie! (sorry emmy!) Yes, Jean is kind of like a fop. Well if you look at pics of counts in France in the 1800's, they're all rather foppish. Anyway, I love your rants, so amusing, lol. And since you gave me my 100th review, I have commissioned Erik to be your slave for a while! Do whatever you wish with him, he is yours from the time I post this until the I post chapter 16. Have a blast! Thank you for the wonderful review and here is your update!

Erik: Hello Mademoiselle Justicia, what can I do for you?

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: A fellow Hugh lover? HUZZAH! Yes, I LOVE Hugh, he is my favorite phantom. (nods) I'll supply the tissues where needed. But if you find you need them another time, let me know, lol. You have just leaped on the boat of angst and it's now leaving port! (blows horn) ALL ABOARD! Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragonmage16**: XD! Cut Christine's head off with a guillotine, eh? LMAO! And a blunt one no less. Oh how I would LOVE that! Yes, Nasrin teases him so cruelly doncha think? Dangle a piece of meat above a starving animal is such cruelty . . . but hey, lol. She was pissed. You think Erik should get something in return? Well, he almost had sex with her in the last chapter. If Jean hadn't come along she most likely would have done it, provided he didn't call her Christine again. As you saw in this chapter, he didn't quite react the way she wanted him to. Don't worry, he won't give up on her that easily. It's a game of cat and mouse now. (To quote Mademoiselle Justicia): MOO. HA. HA. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Girl Formerly Known as Mallie**: Hello again! (waves) Nice to hear from you. (supplies another tissue box) You might be needing these for later. Well, thank you very much! The grin on my face is quite of the wide nature. I am glad you like it. (bows) It's always nice to hear. Anyway, thanks for the very flattering review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: Yes they are, mwahaha. (is evil) It's hard to describe what Nasrin does, but trust me, 'tis evil. The chapter where they meet is very, VERY angsty though. (the chapters after that, I love!) Well, I love all the chapters but 8, I'm blathering . . . sorry. And just because people liked it so much, I'm staying in 1st person POV. The characters will have to change, (you'll see why) but I'll do it! (I kinda like it better than 3rd person anyway, it's much more personal.) All right, Shade, STOP BLATHERING! Okay, thanks for the review and here is your update! Huzzah!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Wow, this chapter was a lot of people's favorites . . . YAY! The tormenting Erik aspect is the most fun about doing this in Nasrin's POV. She knows how to do it, w00t! Erik deserves it, and Nasrin is to be pitied, but she will do things that you might not pity her for and start to be like, "omg, Nasrin!" But maybe not, depends on your feel for the character and the situation. As for Jean, the Comte de Lamarier? Oh boy, plans indeed . . . Nasrin is a crafty little one, perhaps she begins to mimic a certain singer in regard to our favorite phantom? Or perhaps not? Does she have plans? Well, we'll wait and find out, won't we? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Maska**: LOL, yeah, Nasrin's temper leaves much to be desired. (nervous laughter) But that's her! And her temper flares quite a few times over the next few chapters. Glad you loved it! (and the line, I love the line too. I use it muchly.) LOL, yes, he didn't really take that well in stride. Erik is still infatuated with Christine though. She's his pure, virginal and angelic beauty that he sees as his way to happiness. Nasrin on the other hand is darker, more passionate in a sexual way, more like Erik himself. He's more intensely attracted to her at the moment, because she is so much like him. I think he's still kinda confused, lol. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: OK, awesome. Sometimes I tend to laugh at stuff that isn't meant to be funny . . . yeah, get a lot of weird looks. Glad you loved the chapter. YAY! It's always good to hear. O.O;; Hopefully I'm not bordering on par, closer to a bogey. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!


	16. The Passion of the Dark Aphrodite

**Shade: The chapter title isn't meant to be any type of parody or affiliation w/ the Passion of the Christ. Just letting you all know.**

"_Bravi, bravi, bravissimi!_" –Angel of Music

Chapter 16: The Passion of the Dark Aphrodite

"It's tonight!" my nerves screamed at me as I frantically adorned myself with bright silks and makeup. My heart hammered in my chest, threatening to burst from my ribcage. Tonight was the opening night for the production of the play, "Aladin et de sa Lampe Merveilleuse." I needed to be absolutely perfect; a lot of pressure had stacked itself upon this play. I refused to fail myself again.

I fidgeted nervously backstage, gnawing on my lip, which threatened to blossom blood at any moment. I prayed that Erik had not devised a fatal disaster for this performance; I asked much of Allah lately.

The most common prayer I recited religiously was the hope that Erik would prove to me that he was sorry and he wanted me again. Of course, I knew that that would go unanswered. I had lost him . . . forever. I felt myself grow elated as I occupied myself with fantasies of him singing to me, dedicating his heart to me as I had done for him.

Though he had annulled our marriage as if it were nothing more than a counterfeit franc piece, my heart would lay with him every night, since my body had been denied.

"Are you nervous, Nasrin?" Jean asked me, smiling down at me. How I wished to shatter his smile at the moment. His need to be near me at all times always reminded me of how terribly I had failed both Erik and myself. I certainly was in no mood to toy with him now. I wished he would simply occupy himself with traipsing down the labyrinth.

"Can you tell?" I spat harshly.

He laughed, a rather bright sound it was to my ears. Though I wanted nothing light anymore; since I had been above, I had craved darkness, yearned to be cloaked in shadow once more.

"You are shaking. Isn't this type of performance what you excelled in back home?"

"Well yes, but this is far larger a crowd than I have ever performed before."

Jean bent down and kissed my head. "You will do a divine job."

I glared up at him angrily. "Do not kiss any part of me at the moment. I am in an unbalanced mood."

"You have been as long as I've known you," he said jokingly. I didn't find that funny in the slightest. He became somber. "Are you still mourning over your husband's absence?" His eyes betrayed that he seemed shocked at the thought. I hadn't told him of our annulment. I didn't want him making every effort to court me just yet. My soul was still in mourning.

"Of course," I lied. "He was my dark muse."

"Forget about the bastard. It is probable that he has already forgotten you. Why else would he ignore you so?" Jean suggested.

That was a nerve never meant to be touched. My rage flared within me and I felt as though the fires of Hades blazed in every fiber of my being. No one had personified spite as I did in that moment. I grabbed his velvet jacket and slammed him harshly into the wall. I was upset that his skull didn't crack open.

"Don't you ever speak a word against Erik; not while I have breath in me." My voice was low and harsh, and I found myself likening it to that of a serpent.

"Why are you so defensive of one who doesn't love you?" It was apparent that this Comte was raised with manners and nothing else, for he excelled at making me infuriated to the point of a tantrum.

"Because I love him! Is that so hard to understand?" I fought back a swell of tears, remembering that I wore elaborate makeup that would run if I wept.

"No, because I love you too. I know what it is like to have unrequited love." His expression became somber, though his slate gray eyes looked no different.

"Stop saying it! Stop!" I hissed, setting him down.

He looked down at me with heartache and confusion. He looked as broken as I felt. My nerves regained control as the overture began to play and I turned from him, not wanting to remember his look of rejection.

Soon, my cue came. I walked daintily onto the stage, keeping my posture as flawless as I could as my heart thundered. I looked first at the audience, noting that their gazes were filled with expectancy. My eyes wandered to where the chandelier once hung. In the gaping hole I saw a figure standing, only illuminated by a sliver of white on his face.

"I dance for you tonight, Erik. Forgive me," I mumbled as the music began. And, just as the notes began to climb into a dramatic climax, I began to dance, slowly at first, then speeding up as my passion grew. My outfit twirled about me as I turned.

I wore silks of gold and red that tumbled from my shoulders down to the middle of my stomach. My lower stomach was left exposed for the audience to see; and I held none of my sensual and alluring moves back. I contorted my stomach, feeling my breath shorten as I bared my heart and soul to Erik. For him I made certain that my movements were fluid, entrancing and tempting to every human sense. For what seemed like an eternity, my passion grew until it climaxed and fell. My ardent dance was over and I stood, panting and still on the stage, my legs stock straight as I balanced myself.

I knew that every pair of eyes that belonged to a man, Persian or Parisian, were locked on me. I looked once more at my captive audience, who were still locked in a stupor before smiling demurely and traipsing off the stage. Silence followed my exit and I saw sullen eyes meet mine.

"Perhaps they didn't like it," Madame Giry suggested somberly. I just smiled at her, my chest heaving with uncaught breath.

"Give them a few moments," I said, turning back in the direction of the theater. "Ready? Three, two, one . . ." On one, the opera house erupted into wild applause, deep masculine cheers rumbling the walls. I grinned and rolled my eyes playfully, laughing. "In shock, just like my first customers. They always come around." I sniggered and wiped my face off with a cool cloth. The cloth felt so good against my sweating flesh.

"They want an encore," Giry told me, motioning to the stage and smiling widely.

I smirked, my haughtiness not forgotten in my forlorn hopes of love. "Well, they will have to cheer much louder than that."

As if on command, the applause swelled into an uproar, roses being thrown on stage in a blizzard of crimson. I laughed harder, feeling my ego inflate with their rumbling cheers.

"I give in!" I cried in faux exasperation and walked back on the stage, where the uproar grew into chaos. I felt myself blush as I danced a few steps, my mouth cracking into the largest smile I have ever known. When I had felt I had done what was sufficient for an encore, I walked off the stage, leaving the stagehands to clean up my roses. I wanted to powder my face, feeling as though most of my makeup had been taken off, whether from sweat, the cloth, or the tears no one saw me shed on stage.

I walked past Giry, smiling at her. "And to think, the opera hasn't even started yet," I cooed. Oh yes, my pride was alive and growing.

The sounds of the opera reached my ears and I hummed along quietly, not wanting to be heard, as I closed the door to my dressing room. I sat down in front of the vanity, smiling into the new mirror Monsieur Firmin had given me, once he realized that my other one had 'accidentally' shattered.

I powdered my face, restoring its artificial luminescence and adjusting my outfit, untangling my necklaces and bracelets. I looked at myself again, this time in the large dressing room mirror, the one Erik usually hid behind. Something in my eyes, I had noticed, had dulled significantly and I always looked emotionless or bored. I hated it; it didn't even fade when I smiled.

I was reapplying my blush when a low, mellifluous voice whispered through the room. "_Bravi, bravi, bravissimi._" The voice sounded as though some one by my side spoke it; although I knew that no one stood beside me.

"Hello Erik," I said flatly. "What do you want?"

The voice came again, deep, sensuous.

"_Nasrin, dear heart, don't you know me?_

_ My beautiful, sensual bride,_

_I know it won't be too much longer_

'_Till at last you're mine!_"

"What?" I roared, my eyebrows knitted in fury. I opened the door to the mirror in raw fury, scathed by his words. However, my original suspicions were false, and I was only met with darkness.

Erik laughed with craftiness. "Not there, my dear."

I growled and closed the door, looking into the vanity mirror. There was a reflection there that wasn't present before. I saw Erik behind me, a black rose held loosely in his hand. How . . . when did he get there? He began to draw closer to me, his white shirt hanging loosely on his chest. His white mask was tight against his masculine face, and his lips curled into that knowing smirk I knew so well.

The way his lips were formed made me think of feverish, unbridled kissing and I clenched my lips between my teeth to keep from pursuing such a desirable fantasy. I hadn't seen him this striking in a while and a knot formed in me just looking at him.

"I am here." He put his hand on my head. "And here." He placed his hand over my heart, feeling it thrum to his touch. His hand began to wander slowly down my chest, his rough fingers triggering a variety of enviable sensations. Against my brain's warning, my judgment quickly began to cloud and my control began to wane as he pressed his body against mine, his chest against my back. My head fell flaccidly back against his shoulder. His scent was of musky roses, and it enveloped me, tempted me beyond what I had ever felt before. I wanted him so badly that my soul seemed to shiver in longing. Farther and farther I fell into the depths of insurmountable passion, until the memory of our last meeting manifested at random in my brain.

Rage bubbled inside of me, oppressing the near overpowering wishes of my body.

"No," I said, pushing him away brutally. I faced him angrily, incredulous at his sudden change of heart. "You said that you didn't want me as a wife anymore."

"I changed my mind," Erik said simply, offering me the rose.

Oh no, Erik. Winning me back will require a lot more than a moronic explanation like that, even when coupled with a dark rose. If you want me back, you will have to show me that it is I you love. You have far more ground to cover than you believe. For now, I will set you in your place.

I took the rose in my hands and gazed up at him, pretending to think about receiving the enticing gift. Looking back at the rose, I dramatically pushed it back into his arms, making an extra effort to press the thorns against his skin. Now it was my turn, my _darling_.

"You cannot be so capricious, Erik. Am I your wife for now and ever, or aren't I?" I asked sternly, my eyes narrowed. It is time to make you see that your actions speak more to me than your words.

Erik looked at the rose pressed up against his chest, his eyes blinking as if not believing or predicting this outcome. He took it back and twirled it in his fingers. In a move I hadn't anticipated, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against the cool flesh of his chest. Oh Allah, have mercy and give me strength before I push him onto the bed behind him and give into my carnal temptations.

"Do you feel this, Fire Ro . . . Nasrin?" He corrected himself with pursed lips. Some respect was coming into play; perhaps I could dignify him with a truthful answer.

"It's your heart, and right now it is beating hard. Yes, I feel it." I didn't move my hand from his chest and my fingers twitched involuntarily against his skin. I looked up at him. His pursed lips exuded a sensual pull that beat away at my conscious and tantalized my already throbbing senses.

"It beats for you." He drew his face closer to mine, his other hand caressing my jaw, his fingers sweeping gently across my lips, causing a tingling sensation to burn throughout my body. It wasn't going to be much longer before I lost control and threw myself in his arms, verbally begging him to take me and make me his in every way. Those unbearably perfect lips moved again. "For you, Nasrin." Regain control, I told myself, don't let him have control over you. Show him your strength.

I shook away the darkest desires of her body. "No, you cannot seduce me into giving myself completely. I know you want my flesh; if that is all you desire, you will never lay with me."

Erik's eyes softened. "Is that what you think? That I only yearn for your flesh?"

I grimaced. "It's what I know." I pulled my hand from his chest and walked over to the vanity.

"Remember this, my little Fire Rose," Erik cooed, removing my wig and stroking my distortion as though it was nothing more than a scrape. I felt tears burn behind my eyes. He leaned down and kissed my head affectionately. I reluctantly pulled away, fiercely wanting to hold true to my word. He moved away and walked towards the mirror, his eyes dark with confusion.

"It is imperative that you know something," Erik said as he slid the glass from the mirror aside.

"And what is that?" I asked with bated breath as I reapplied my ruby lipstick.

He cloaked himself in shadow, though his voice remained. "If I cannot have you for my own, no one will."

The severity of his voice and frightened me and I felt an inescapable sense of dread. I slowly looked down at the makeup table. There, over the mascara, lipstick, and face powder, lay the black rose.

Quickly, I fled the room, feeling his presence becoming dark with obsession. I ran with the company, taking the final bow and blending in with everyone around me. Despite this attempt at camouflage, I could still hear Erik's laughter, mad with power.

Still he sang in my head, "_I know it won't be too much longer, 'till at last . . . you're . . . MINE!_"

**Notes**:

The opera title I do not own, nor do I know if it's a real opera. Credit where credit is due. Also, it translates (for those who don't speak French) to Aladdin and his Marvelous Lamp. I figured if Nasrin were going to be in an opera, it would have to have Middle Eastern music to which she could dance.

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! (blows kisses)**

**Maidenhair**: Glad you liked it! I actually haven't had some one give me a long flame telling me I'm an idiot. But my friend did, she just wrote them a very calm e-mail about it (they signed in.) If the flame was anonymous, just let it roll off your shoulder. I mean, if you were written to by 2 publishers, than obviously you know you're not. That's what really matters. (nods) And of course I will keep writing! It is my passion, lol. Thank you so much for the review and here is your update!

**Jessie**: LOL, well, welcome back! So glad you liked the last two posts! Thanks for the review and here is your update! (bows)

**littledarkone**: Thank you! No, Nasrin and Erik aren't married anymore. I know, it's sad. I know, if you don't like Jean now, just wait. And you'll see how Nasrin and Erik deal with their "divorce" Let's just say it leads to a rather undesirable circumstance. But you will see! I promise if you stick with it, you will be happy! (I hope!) Anyway, thank you so much for the review and here is your update! (trumpet fanfare)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: All right (gives you infinite boxes of tissues) just in case. GO HUGH! (celebrates) And all right, Erik!

Erik: What do you want?

Shade: xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx says you need a spanking.

Erik: (O).O;; I beg your parden?

Shade: Bend over. NOW.

Erik: (bends over)

Shade: (spanks)

Erik: DAMN YOU!

Shade: LOL, thanks for the review and here is your update! You can spank him if you like!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: LOL, well the angst will increase, cuz as you know, Nasrin is obsessively in love with Erik and Erik pretty much has one thought on his mind: Bring Nasrin home and bang her. (nervous laughter) sorry to be so abrupt about it, but it's true. Erik is still a genius I assure you . . . however, look at him, he isn't used to anyone being in love with him. He's always gotten the short end of the straw, so he probably doesn't recognize it because he's never seen it before. The 'his bride' thing: I'm sure Nasrin is more pissed that she isn't his 'wife', which would imply to her that they had already had sex. But now they are divorced, so Nasrin isn't just gonna run down and bang Erik at random, she's too proud for that. Revenge through the fop . . . well, this fop won't exactly enjoy it when he puts his (little) brain to good use. And that spells something for our little Fire Rose (or Dark Aphrodite, whichever you prefer.) The signs she spoke of, that she was frightened of him . . . yeah. (buttons lips) Anyway, you are welcome for the dedication. I hope you haven't done too much to our little Erik! Nasrin needs him, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update! (hey if you want him back, there's always review number 200.) (winks) lol.

**DragonheartRAB**: Yeah, he was. You could tell though, he has strong feelings for her, just he's confused as to what he can do with them. Nasrin is indeed a bit of a seductress. (nervous laughter) Though she is smart, she knows how to act and everything. As for Jean . . . don't feel bad. I know you want to . . . but don't, lol. You saw in this chappy, he doesn't exactly understand how Nasrin feels about Erik. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: Then I shall make certain they are the guillotine's only victims. Mwahaha. Well, the trap she falls into . . . I _wish_ was Erik's bed. That'd be nice, cuz you know they both wanna. She falls into more of a metaphorical trap, if my memory serves me correctly. O.O;;;;; Erik in his bedroom covered in chocolate? (rocks back and forth with you) Oh good god is that a cruel vision. I want! (grabs at vision) Oooh, that'd be SO hot. (fans self) Well, thanks for the review, and here is your update!

**harem98**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! I'm pleased that you like my story. It's always good to hear. (bows) And come on, it seems you and I both know that the play lyrics are SO much better than the movie. That "in all your fantasies" part in POTO was my absolute favorite part of that song, and they took it out! Bastards. Hey, glad you like Nasrin. I don't like making characters that are like, "Erik! Save me!" like every four seconds. Not all girls are damsels in distress, damnit! And I tried to bring that out in Nasrin. Glad you liked it! Anyway, thanks for the reviews, here is your update!

**Maska**: Yep, two strong willed characters testing each other's limits. Thank you! I'm trying to keep Erik as realistic as possible: intensely romantic, possessive, etc. And Nasrin is very much the same, so yeah. I'm so happy you love them and that your completely absorbed. That is so flattering to hear! Thank you! Does Nasrin like Jean? Well, there is some sort of attraction there, but as you read, she feels uneasy around him sometimes. Her feelings towards Erik are by far more passionate, sexual, etc. Why are all the Comts and Vicomtes girlie? It's 1870's in Paris! Fashion was so in, especially for the nobles. Plus, who couldn't use another fop to torment? Mwahaha. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: Thank you so much! Welcome to my reviewing family, lol. I'm so flattered. (bows) yes, I am finding the 1st person POV a lot better. It is a lot more personal and more like they're telling the story and you already know them. It's much more reader attracting if they seem to be told the story. Am I making sense or just blathering? Lol. Anyway, thank you for the review and here is your update! Remember: in the way I write, things get worse and worse until they are unbearable before they get better. LOL.

**tink8812**: LOL! I hadn't intended her to be . . . but she kinda turned out that way didn't she? Oh well, if people like it! (bows) Thank you for the kudos! (really you don't think anyone has ever done that before? Wow, I feel original! YAY!) Anyway, thank you so much for the review! (welcome to my review family, lol.) And here is your update!

**Kitariki**: YAY! LOL, glad you love my story, and I'm glad your site thing is working. W00t! Thanks for reviewing, here is your update!


	17. Two Hearts as One

**Shade: I'm telling you right now, I needed tissues while I was writing this. So all of you who said you've been crying so far: get the tissues. I am fairly certain you'll need them.**

"_For either way you choose, you cannot win!_" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 17: Two Hearts as One

After the opera's last performance, its success was manifested largely in the foyer, where a celebration beyond my wildest expectations was held. Champagne, wine, escargot, and steak tar tar were being served in large amounts to all the company.

Regrettably, I was instructed to appear as a proper and wealthy Parisian lady wound; and so I wore a dress made by the lead seamstress. I found the garment rather charming actually.

It was a long blue taffeta dress that had lace flounces under the tight cream-colored corset, on which lay my damned chastity beads. My shoulders, much to the dismay of most, were left bare to the winter wind. There were two cream white straps of soft, diaphanous cloth draped around the upper part of my arms, a very feminine and vulnerable looking garment, which greatly contrasted the power hidden behind my devious eyes. Some one once told me that if you look innocent, it is far harder to be accused of any wrongdoings. After murdering Khortdad, I had found this to be true.

I was in front of the mirror, examining the way my wig had been styled. It was styled so that my hair was pulled back severely, only leaving a small chignon to brush the nape of my neck. A few tight curls spiraled down my back and down the side of my face, caressing my high cheekbones. If my hair were real, I would imagine the style would be excruciatingly painful, as it required the scalp to be pulled every which way.

I applied my makeup in front of the mirror, taking care to use neutral colors, wanting my true beauty appear to be thus. Once I had finished my preparations, I walked with graceful elegance down to the foyer, my neck arched as eloquently as a swan's. It was imperative that I look delicate and refined; first impressions were everything.

Upon entering the festivity, I was met with the face of Jean Lamarier, his smile wide with glee. Beyond him, many nobles peered up at me, raw desire in their eyes. I turned my attention back to Jean, whose glance was slightly less hungry.

"Hello Jean," I cooed seductively. "My my, don't you look full of mirth this evening."

Jean bowed to me, his smile never waning. "Good evening, my fair Nasrin. You were sublime tonight. Please forgive me for my inexcusable conduct earlier; I truly meant no harm."

I smiled warmly, hiding the emptiness in my eyes. "I realize; forgive me for losing my temper with you, it was important that I understood. I have come to the conclusion that you were right. I am no longer bound to Erik; I am a free Mademoiselle."

It was time to move on . . . despite how hard my heart beat against it.

"What inspired you to change your mind so quickly, Mademoiselle?" he asked politely.

My eyes found the marble floor and I gnawed on my lip. I was unsure whether to bare the entire truth. I sighed, realizing that I had no other choice; Jean would conjecture that I would never leave Erik. "He . . . he told me that he no longer wanted me as a wife," I answered softly, fighting back tears.

"I can not see a reason why he would relinquish such a wonder." He paused to scrutinize me and I sighed, giving up. "You look absolutely ethereal tonight, Mademoiselle."

I bowed her head appreciatively and stared deeply into his gray eyes, which sparkled with something I dreaded to call desire. "Thank you, Jean."

A waiter walked by with a tray of bubbling champagne glasses. Jean gracefully grabbed two glasses, handing one to me, a smile on his lips. As I reached out to grasp the chalice, he moved himself closer to me until our bodies were pressed against each other's. I quickly took the glass from his hand and sipped it before he could kiss me.

"Will you come to the rooftop with me?" he asked, giving me wanted space and extending his arm, still smiling. I vaguely wondered how he could possibly smile so much. It seemed inhuman.

"If you so desire me to," I answered smoothly, wrapping my arm around his gently. I did not want to give him so much contact. We quietly fled the party to the more secluded and romantic rooftop. I felt alone even with Jean beside me as I gazed into the black infinity before me.

I looked around the rooftop, smiling slightly as snowflakes began to tumble from the heavens. The cold air bit at my exposed flesh and I shivered slightly, unaccustomed to living in such climates. As I turned to face Jean, I found him smiling at me, a radiance of nothing short of adoration glowing in his normally stoic eyes. I felt uneasy and decided it was best to ease the tension that festered between us.

"Why have you asked me here? The party didn't cause much noise. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?"

Jean sighed deeply and his foggy breath dissipated in gray tendrils. "I . . . actually . . . I mean I wanted to . . ."

"Do not stammer or I shan't take you seriously," I remarked playfully, still intent on lightening the mood.

Jean approached me timidly, and I saw in his eyes that a disapproving reaction would spell certain death. He knelt before me, bowing his head for a moment. Oh no . . . he couldn't possibly . . . he wouldn't actually . . . is he serious?

"Jean, what is the meaning of this gesture?" I asked, already having a feeling of what it would mean.

Jean smiled uncertainly at me and pulled from his pocket a velvet black box. I felt my breath flee my lungs and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Nasrin Khanum . . . would you consider becoming Comtess de Lamarier?" He opened the box, revealing a startling diamond ring. It glittered in the dim lights from below and my eyes widened.

"You are asking me to become your wife?" I asked numbly.

"Yes, you see, I have been in love with you since I first saw you. I knew from the moment your eyes met mine that nothing you do would ever cease to amaze and intrigue me. You are all I will ever want, Nasrin. Whatever I have, I want to be yours as well. I would do anything for you. Won't you consider?" He held the box closer to me. His eyes were soft and pleading.

Is this what I need to move on? If Jean was the man that lay with me in my dreams, then I must love him someday. But Erik . . . No . . . Erik doesn't _love_ me, he just wants me. Perhaps . . . this was a good idea. It would be best for both Erik and I. Fantasies of what could have been had no place in reality; this was reality, and Jean's proposal was true.

It was imperative that I convince Jean that I loved him, and that I had been waiting for this moment.

I stared at the shimmering offering with a look of pleasant triumph. I smiled at him and offered out my left hand. "Of course I will marry you, Jean." He blissfully slid the ring onto my left ring finger and held my hands in his. His smile widened, if that was even possible.

"Oh my darling, I will make you so very happy," he promised faithfully.

"Dear heart, you already have," I answered back in a brilliant imitation of infatuation.

As Jean moved into kiss me, I threw myself into his arms, showering his face with ardent kisses and laughing as he embraced me, swinging me around before planting a passionate kiss on my lips. I didn't recoil and instead pushed farther against him, my hands resting gently on either side of his head, my fingers entwined with his brown hair. The embrace lasted for what seemed like hours, and when Jean finally drew away, he found me breathless and pale, my heart ripping and tearing my soul to shreds.

"You are looking faint; I'll go get you a glass of cold water. That should awaken your senses. I'll be right back, my love." He kissed me on the cheek before walking back inside, closing the door behind him.

It began to snow harder and the large flakes that touched my flesh melted into shimmering drops of cold water. I hastily stuck my hands inside my white fur muff to keep myself warm. Unfortunately, it was to no avail. I shivered and felt a tangible sense of loneliness began to strangle the vigor out of me.

If it was for the best, why was I hurting so badly?

Why can't I let go?

I sighed and my breath blew out a stream of gray smoke that dipped and twirled in the winter wind. I turned to face the city of Paris, looking down at the activity below.

"My dear, don't you look as though you were née français?" cooed a seductively sweet voice that threatened to usurp my self-control.

"Yes, I was instructed to wear this. A rather lovely garment though, isn't it?" I replied calmly. Realizing who it was that spoke, I turned elegantly on my heels, my features in a state of frozen nobility and a grin of dark desires on my deceptively angelic face. "Hello Erik."

"Hello Nasrin," he whispered, walking towards me slowly, his cape billowing in elegant waves behind him. A beautifully sincere expression marked his otherwise unchanged appearance.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked.

"I came to ask you a question about your suitor, the _Comte de Lamarier_." He said Jean's title as if it were the name of a dangerous serpent.

"Of course, what is it?" I asked, thinking: _suitor no more, my only love. Fiancé._

"Can you honestly say that you love that man? He may be a Comte, but he is a carpenter as well. He would rather pay his creations doting attention than you." His sensual lips curved into a menacing snarl, an insanity intensifying in his narrowed eyes.

"I'd rather him pay wood doting attention than another woman as _some one_ once did," I pointed out. "However, I do not love him, Erik. He is a pawn, nothing more." I shrugged nonchalantly, silently begging him to forgive and take me with him anywhere. "At least _he_ loves me." I walked slowly towards him, my face illuminated by the tender lights from below.

"Don't speak of what is not clear for either of us, Nasrin," he warned. "If he were to propose, would you only marry him for his money? The luxurious title and all it entailed? For if you would, that goes against everything you ever have said to me." Erik looked at me questioningly, his cloak billowing out behind him and his black cravat blending in with the night around them.

I paused as I stood next to him. Dramatically, I turned to him. If he didn't love me, I was doing what is best. If he does love me, I am condemning myself to live in Hell evermore.

"I would rather spend my days with a rich Comte who loves me, as opposed to a social recluse who does not and never will. And as for the loving statements I made to you, keep in mind that I was married to you when I made them. They possessed some substance then." I raised my chin to him defiantly and strode by him, passing him without a second glance, my body the embodiment of beautiful refinery. I was thankful that I could seem so elegant and composed when inside my whole being was a complete wreck.

"You love me?" he conjectured both amazement and hope.

I looked back over my shoulder, my expression furbished with wily confidence. "Did I say that?" I needed him to admit that he loved me before I gave in and admitted to him.

Erik wielded on me in a moment, grabbed me tightly around my waist and pushed me against one of the cold stone Pegasus statues perched atop the roof. I looked up at him with astonishment, my eyes wide with shock at the sudden fluidity of his movements.

"Do you have some baffling fetish with pushing me violently against stone?" I asked coolly, regaining my elegant poise within a matter of seconds. Erik disregarded my comment and looked me sternly in the eye, his blue eyes narrowed in stark intent.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me," he commanded, his teeth bared and gritted.

I looked up with dauntless cunning. "Now where is the fun in that?"

_Please Erik, by Allah just tell me you love me and I'll never leave you again. That's all you have to say, darling. Three words. Please . . ._

"Your games would be gone and I would see what you really wanted," Erik hissed.

I looked up at him and very quietly, I whispered, "I have told you what it is I want from you. If you will not tell me what I need to hear, you must excuse me." I moved to push him away, but he stayed firmly up against me, towering over my form with a glimmer in his eyes I hesitated to call lust.

"No, I will not," he growled seductively, his tone sending chills through my body and shattering the steel with which I had infused my spine. He caressed my cheek softly, his glove hot against my cool flesh. His touch was so gentle, and loving. I began to tremble under his hands. "_Now_ tell me that you don't love me."

I swallowed quickly, most of my rock hard confidence dissolving under the pressure of his hands. I began to breath slightly heavier and my breasts rose and fell against his chest in mock intimacy. My control began to fog as I became delirious with desire.

"I knew you couldn't," he purred and he pushed his lips forcefully against mine.

I fought back moaning as I felt an exhilarating rush flood every fiber of being. My final barrier of willpower was decimated by the passion of his embrace. My hands worked out of the muff as I grabbed onto the collar of his coat, pulling him closer to me. I wanted so terribly to touch every inch of him . . . _love_ every inch of him any way I knew how. My hands slid up to his cheeks.

I felt powerfully masculine jaw muscles shift as his head worked against mine. Before I realized it, his warm velvet tongue surged into my mouth, brushing against mine and causing me to make a high squeak of both surprise and ecstasy. Erik had felt me tense, though he misinterpreted it and slowed dramatically. When I pushed against him again, his hands moved slowly down my body and I shivered as his hands fondled my chastity beads angrily.

I whimpered pitifully against him as I desperately tried to keep pace with his unwavering ardor. The fact that I had allowed him to press up against me made me winded, for he restrained my already compromised breath; I began to feel faint, but stubbornly refused to release him. I would never relinquish him as long as he held me like this.

I felt him untying my corset, the first impediment that separated my body from his. I tensed and he pulled away slowly, the look in his eyes the likes of which I had never seen.

_Was it . . . dare I say . . . love? _

I was quivering as I stumbled breathlessly, my body still shaken from the swell of emotions that still pounded against the walls of each vein. How had a mere kiss had left me so vulnerable?

He smiled a rare smile at me and I felt as though I would pass out from a mixture of passion and the lack of air to my lungs. Erik looked down at me and watched with amusement as I gathered my bearings. When I had regained my breath, I looked up at him and smirked.

"I believe that answers my question," Erik murmured, his voice a low, feral growl. I shivered. His hand had retreated to his coat pocket, most likely from the strong winter gusts. He grabbed my left hand and drew it up to him, smiling at me.

_Oh no Erik, my only love! Don't look at my hand! Oh Allah please! _

As if completely to disobey my thoughts, he looked down. His beautiful smile shattered. He dropped my hand and stepped away from me as though I had been infected with the black plague.

"I'm so sorry, Erik!" I wailed, falling into a fit of hysterics. I felt my makeup run in streaks down my face and I threw myself at him, clutching at his cloak. "I thought you didn't truly want me back! I was moving on, to forget, you see?" His expression was emotionless and his nostrils flared.

"It's from him, isn't it?" he asked stoically.

I could only nod, becoming numb at the realization of my horrid mistake. I wish I had never had a dream of anyone other than him; if I hadn't, I would never have left. This wouldn't have happened and Erik. . . oh, Erik.

"I wanted you back, Nasrin. I came here tonight to bring you home, where you and I both know you belong."

My hysterics reached a climax and I grabbed his coat, pulling him to me and weeping into his neck. He pushed me away and wiped the tears from my eyes. A glimmer of hope kindled in me and I was reduced to sniffling quietly.

Instead, Erik tilted my face up to his and looked at me, his eyes dull, his mouth set in a straight line. "It is imperative that you never cry in public, Lady Comtess."

That was the last nail in the coffin. I succumbed to another fit of wails, my face flushed in horrid despair. I kissed his lips, shaking with sorrow, determined to make him feel the truth: _I love you Erik, only you. I can never love Jean with the same fire I do you. Please, please understand and see! Please, my angel. Please . . ._

He kissed me back, but it was chaste, without the fiery passion he displayed earlier. I realized . . . it was a farewell kiss. He was leaving me . . . I cried into his mouth. He broke the kiss and my head was no longer held high in nobility, but hung low in a love slave's shame.

"Good-bye, Comtess de Lamarier," he whispered before bowing mockingly. He kissed my left hand, his lips brushing the hateful jewel on my finger and strode away.

"Wait, Erik!" I called, running up to him and grabbing his hand, which was clenched angrily in a fist. He turned around slowly, and I could finally see tears shimmer in his eyes. "You didn't come up here just to ask me that one question, did you?"

Erik sighed and reluctantly met my gaze. "No, I had one more question in mind." He opened the hand I had grabbed and there, nestled safely in his black palm . . . a wedding ring.

No . . .

I looked up at him, my eyes wide in disbelief and absolute anguish.

His lips twitched into a small smile, one that he would bare to comfort me. He bowed his head slightly before pulling out of my grasp and vanishing into the shadows. I collapsed in defeat of myself on the ground.

As soon as he was no more, Jean emerged, holding a glass of water in his hand. When his eyes found me crumpled on the ground, crying into my hands, he dropped the glasses and ran over to me and put his hand on my waist.

"Nasrin! My love, what happened?" He sounded frantic and I sat up, grimacing as I noticed the almost ruined state of the dress. I reduced my wailing to sniffling and I looked up at him, dark makeup running in dark streams down my cheeks and under my chin.

"Nothing my love . . . I am just overwhelmed by the prospect of marriage," I choked out. I hated myself. I hated myself for lying to myself, to Erik, for seducing Jean, for everything. I wanted to die, just let my body expire and find solace in another life.

"We can get married whenever you feel comfortable. I won't rush you into anything. We can be wed in three years if that is what you want."

_What if I were to say never . . . ?_

"Let us be wed after the Masquerade at New Years." I gagged on my answer, hating myself for digging a deeper hole in which to bury myself.

"If that is what you wish. For now, you look exhausted; it is probably in your best interest to retire for the night. Come, I'll guide you to your room."

I nodded numbly and stood on shaky legs, not feeling as though my weak body could support anything anymore.

True to his word, Jean guided me down to my room and lay me on my bed. I wanted nothing more than to run into the labyrinth and end my own life; but suicide was the coward's way out. I wouldn't dare impede with the course of my life Allah planned.

_However,_ my conscience spoke, _Allah has a sick sense of humor._

"Do you want me to have Meg come and help you change?" he asked softly, stroking my stained cheek affectionately.

"No, I'll be all right," I groaned and motioned him to the door. He kissed my cheek and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.

In a state I likened to living death, I changed my clothes without making a noise or changing the look on my face. When I was fully in my night attire, I looked back at my vanity mirror. Where the black rose lay that Erik gave me, there was only a void. It was gone. My head throbbed as a thousand drums wracked my skull. Too tired and dead to cry, I collapsed on the floor and fell into a headache-induced sleep.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV:**

It was done . . .

I had lost her . . .

Lost my Dark Aphrodite . . .

My heart torn again . . . in the same way . . .

My Nasrin . . . no longer mine . . . never would be . . .

My thoughts ran and blurred together until I couldn't distinguish one thought from another. It was a constant buzz in my mind and my pride was overthrown by my sorrows. I walked despondently down to my lair, casually tossing my dress coat on the floor. My back was hunched in sorry, my arms dangling uselessly by my side.

_Your heart is broken, Devil's Child . . . even after you swore to never love again . . . now what are the odds that you would be hurt in the same fashion as before . . . ?_

That voice of despair whispered softly in my ear, tempting me into a fit of enraged tears.

_No . . ._ I said to the intangible phantom. _Nasrin was different, not like Christine. She still loves me, her kiss told me so._

I beat back any further thoughts of her and sat down at my organ, venting my unsurpassed agony into desolate chords of despair that echoed into every crevice of the labyrinth. I hadn't noticed the tears slipping from behind my eyes, escaping the confines of my self-control and dripping onto the keys.

_She loves you . . ._

I knew it to be true. Her touch was not one of pity, of sorrow. I could feel the passion and terrible anxiety of her touch, as if she knew that my heart could never truly be hers alone; but she had loved me regardless.

When I had embraced her on the roof, before I knew of her engagement, I had held her to me frenziedly, dreading ever letting her stray from the confines of my arms again. I would have brought her down below, and we would have consummated our union in darkness, where both of us thrived. She wanted to, I felt her shiver against me and I knew it wasn't fear that made her shake. I had soothed her by applying slight pressure to her back, feeling her lean muscles flex as attached herself to me, wanting me to know that she had given in and surrendered her heart completely to me.

_And you to her . . ._

Our combined passion had been a bruising force, and I had wanted so strongly to rid her of that dress and have her once and for all. She would not have denied me; we both knew that what fire passed between us was a more tangible passion than any either of us had experienced prior to it.

_She abandoned you . . ._

No . . . I had abandoned her. For four months I could have proposed; she would have put up a façade of composure, but with one kiss, she would have been mine. Now, it was no longer me who would make her shiver or moan; it was the Comte de Lamarier. That despicable feminine fop had showed more spine than me and taken Nasrin just out of my reach . . . only an hour or two before myself.

_ Kill the Comte . . ._

No . . . I wanted to . . . I yearned to spill the blood of that wretched boy; to wring his neck and watch as his breath wheezed out of him one final time. I would take Nasrin then and all would be done. However, she needed a house, stability, life besides this darkness. Such beauty would whither without light, I realized instantaneously. _I_ belonged in hellish darkness . . . _she_ was too beautiful, too astounding to be kept in shadow. Now she was where she belonged; she needed the light.

_She needed you . . ._

And I her . . . I realized, at long last, that my desire for her was not merely a matter of flesh and physical attraction. I was attracted to far more of her aspects than just the way her body moved. She was brilliant, sly, cunning, compassionate . . . beautiful. She was all I thought I could never obtain in a woman. I knew it then . . . I was meant to have her, and she to me. But, she had sworn herself off suddenly, intent on forgetting our passion, our . . . love?

_Revenge runs thick in your veins . . ._

It is crucial that I act. I cannot allow my Fire Rose to go to another. She knew that she wanted me, and I wanted her. A profound, fervent wanting that would insure sleepless nights for months on end. I would not lose her in the same way I lost Christine. I needed her by my side, to protect, to cherish, to live completely. I had stayed long enough to hear that they would be married after the Masquerade ball. What a delightful invitation for me to take.

I would show the world who she was, for what she was, that she was not as perfect as she seemed. Her head would be her undoing . . . as my face was mine. Reveal the beauty as the beast. Once I showed her that I alone could bear the sight of her distortion, she would return to me a great deal wiser . . . and without a pesky Comte trailing blindly in her wake.

I smiled, feeling my pain turn to madness, my sorrow to anger, my love to spite. I would have her for my own because I would make certain no one else would take her.

_Revenge runs thick in your veins . . ._

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**VictorianDream**: LOL, thank you for not lurking! Lol. Of course Erik can give you a hug. It would be his pleasure! Erik!

Erik: You're selling me off like a slave.

Shade: Well I am a slave to my reviewers, so HUG!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: There you go! LOL, I hope that sufficed . . . then again, one hug never truly suffices when it comes to Erik now does it? Hm, will have to consider that . . . Anyway, thank you so much for your review, here is your update!

**littledarkone**: LOL! You think you smell lemons? Hm . . . . I'll just keep quiet. I think this chapter kinda put a cork in that whole thing, I'm afraid, lol. But you will see what Erik does . . . oh the poor phantom . . . oh the poor Fire Rose. Don't be scared for Jean . . . I can't tell you why, but don't lol, you'll regret it later. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: LOL, a fellow play lyric enthusiast. YAY! Anyway, I love that music change as well, I've played the clarinet for 9 years, so if anyone's a band dork . . . it's me, lol. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Maidenhair**: Thank you very much! I have a writing mentor who I guess you can say is my 'guide and guardian' when it comes to this. (crickets chirp) Well I thought it was amusing. (sigh) So glad you enjoy reading this, it's always nice to hear. Wow, what is the book called? I would love to read it; it sounds so kewl. (Nasrin started learning at 7, so I guess she thrived mostly on innate talent rather than long experience.) Wow, I picked Nasrin's name cuz it meant "Wild Rose" in Persian and thought it was appropriate, and I made her a belly dancer because I am one, so . . . yeah, I'm rambling. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Kitariki**: NO! NOT THE RANDOM HAND! (kills it) that bastard will not die. XD! Thank you so much again for your wonderfully over flattering review, you make me laugh, hahahahaha!

Erik: Not . . . that . . . song . . . again.

Shade: (cough) sorry, Erik. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update! (gives a box of tissues)

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: I presume you might need these? (gives box of tissues) No, last chapter wasn't sad, so I'd be surprised if anyone cried. But this one . . . oh this one . . . I cried writing it! That says something! Well go ahead, spank Erik if you wish! Erik!

Erik: HELL NO!

Shade: Present your ultra fine ass to xxXGoddessXofXdedXloveXxx now!

Erik: (presents)

Shade: Good! I think he needs a spanking after this chapter anyway. Well, Nasrin should kinda be slapped too, but we'll see what happens. Anywho, I don't think you're a baby for crying, lol. It's angsty! So angsty! Well anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: Well, she is so stubbornly intent on proving that she isn't weak. Obviously, she just really fucked it up. Hold on tight though, this is about to become exclusively lovely revenge. Erik doesn't take to rejection lightly, we know that, and Nasrin . . . well, you'll see. Oh, I almost forgot. (gives tissues) Thanks for the review, here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: . . . a long time, I guess. But didn't Nasrin just throw him for a loop? She's fucked it up bad now. -.- Oh well, glad you liked the chapter, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: Thank you for returning him, lol. He seems to be kinda freaked out . . . but I'm sure he'll be all right eventually. I hope . . . Anyway, LOL! Meg can do ballet, but can you picture the movie Meg belly dancing? I think not! (lol) I think Nasrin's making him quite insane with the fact that he can't have her. And as you see in this chapter, it only gets worse. Thank you so much for the always incredibly amusing review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: LOL, I don't think I've gotten a review from you before, welcome! (bows) Steamy moments indeed. Hell, Nasrin has WAY more self control than I would have when it comes to Erik wanting me. (clears throat) Anyway, yes, some ppl have told me that Nasrin is a bit Mary Sue in the beginning chapters . . . then later you're like, "HOLY CRAP! NO WAY!" Then the title no longer seems appropriate. But thank you! She'll get even less as time goes on. Thanks for sticking w/ it even when you thought she was a Mary Sue, means much. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: LOL, glad you liked it. I thought about the stagehand thing but realized, if Comte de Lamarier is hitting on her, you don't go stealing from a powerful man, you know? You just kinda have to respect them, otherwise . . . yeah. Jean's well respected around the Opera so I don't think stagehands would try to bang Nasrin if they knew he loved her. Death by scabbers and pigmes? XD! O . . . M . . . G! If only if only! Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: LOL. Well, hissy fit indeed. You'll see. Mwahaha. Well, her reaction to the room thing isn't as big as when the topic of the Phantom comes up. Mwaha. You shall see grasshopper! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	18. A Face Will Still Pursue You

"_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face_

_So the world will never find you . . ._" –Masquerade

Chapter 18: A Face Will Still Pursue You

I grabbed my outfit for the masquerade, tossing it casually on my bed and sighing. I had been looking forward to this ball for months. Now, knowing what pain lay in wait after, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed and sleep. However, I could hear the music from the foyer and I reluctantly stripped naked and looked down at my costume.

The outfit was meant to expose the majority of the stomach and chest area. It was the whitest garment I had ever laid eyes on, the color of summer clouds, of snow, of Erik's mask . . .

I shook him out of my thoughts immediately. It wouldn't help me now that I would seal my fate tonight. He wouldn't come to hold or kiss me anymore. I reluctantly examined my attire once more.

The outfit fit identically to the turquoise one, and the skirt was tight around the thighs, but fanned out as it swept past my knees. Jewels were stuck to the hem and waistband of the skirt and top was in the shape of two raging flames, which served the purpose of covering my breasts exclusively.

I had my wig specially styled in tight ringlets, shortening its length to falling only to the bottom of my ribcage where it wasn't pulled back loosely. Shimmering threads of silver were woven into my hair, and every time the thread touched the light, it shone like a liquid star. In my hand was a mask meant to cover my cheeks and most of my nose. Two wide eyeholes allowed for the eyes and the area around them to be seen clearly. The mask too, was white.

I knew not whether the white was a symbol of my purity soon to be destroyed, or just the reason that it was a common color for costumes that led me to this barren snow-white outfit.

I smiled dully as I put the finishing touches on my skirt and looked at my reflection. I admit the ensemble fit me rather well. If the theater didn't already know of my marriage, I would have many hungry stares tonight. Well, I might anyway, knowing how tactless insolent stagehands could be.

Now it was time for the added sparkle that would set me apart from everyone else. I grabbed a handful of fake diamonds and coated the back with a sticky clear substance. I began placing individual jewels all along the exposed parts of my body, starting on my arms and my stomach, working up to my back and parts of my chest, over my shoulders and up my neck. The jewels were cold against my warm skin. Some were even placed on my face, though very sparingly. One jewel was at the far edge of each eye.

Reluctantly, I adorned the mask, only my shimmering lips and jaw showing. My blue green eyes danced in the candlelight; they would always betray my identity no matter what I wore.

"Pity comes too late, Nasrin," I said to my reflection. "No more running; turn around and face your fate. You chose the Comte, and no matter how much you yearn for Erik, that cannot and will not ever be." I blew out the candles in the room and walked slowly to the masquerade, each step drawing me closer to my doom.

I emerged into the foyer, drawn in by the cackling laughs of drink-induced glee. An explosion of the rainbow met my eyes as costumes of every shade dipped and twirled in merriment.

"Wondrous," I whispered. I began to laugh out of sheer astonishment at the splendor of the event and in my bliss I grabbed a small glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"You look beautiful," came Jean's soft voice.

I turned to look at him, lowering my mask. I . . . couldn't believe it. He was . . he was . . . I found myself gritting my teeth in disgust, clenching my chalice tightly in my fist.

He was dressed in a long black cape with his tawny hair slicked back, allowing it to fall to the nape of his neck. He wore black gloves on his hands and the right side of his face was almost completely concealed by a white mask.

"You are dressed as the Phantom?" I asked venomously.

_Oh, not wise on our wedding night, you slime._

"Yes, so are most of the people here. Dressing up like the 'Opera Ghost' was a big hit. I'm glad I thought of it. I only hope he doesn't come and see us all dressed up as him, making a mockery of his hideous tyranny." A stupid grin grew on his face.

My eyes were black with hate. Fiancé or not, this was too much for me to stomach.

"Bastard," I spat, throwing my champagne at him and feeling a twisted satisfaction as the alcohol bubbled on his outfit.

He looked at me incredulously, his jaw slackened in awe. Without hesitation, I thrust my empty glass into his arms and stormed off, my cheerful mood all but shattered.

"Darling? What in the world was that for?" he asked hazily, moving to follow me. One stern look informed him that I would not tolerate being followed.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed another drink and gulped it down. The warm liquid soothed my temper and I sighed, breathing out my rage.

"Ah, Madame Fire Rose, there is some one who wants to meet you." Madame Giry's voice startled me and I jumped. Her voice was welcome to my ears and I turned to face her cheerfully

"Who? I was sure I knew everyone here." I peered around the room, recognizing the faces of Piangi, Carlotta, and Meg, faces flushed scarlet with drink. I hoped to get that drunk later, to prevent myself from remembering my wedding night in future times.

"You have not met Christine Daaé, and the Vicomte de Chagny," Giry pointed out.

_Oh no, Madame, that disgusting heathen is some one I will never rejoice in sharing company. Do you not remember to whom I was married?_

"No I haven't, nor do I have any desire to. Are they the ones who wish to speak with me?" I once again hid my face behind the white mask, grimacing to myself; I hated putting up a pretense of politeness and composure, especially when it was with matters dealing with Erik's infatuation.

"Yes, come this way. They were very insistent." Madame Giry grabbed a firm hold of my forearm and pulled me towards the middle of the room. "Christine, Vicomte!" she called.

A knot wound itself in my stomach and weighed down on my insides. I began to feel nauseas and I focused on the ground. Suddenly, two pairs of shoes entered my vision and I looked up bleakly.

I was met with a pair of wide smiling faces. Christine's clear blue eyes were warm with kindness and her golden hair spilled like liquid gold around her waist. I noticed that she was dressed in a pink gown that elegantly swept the floor. She reached out a slender hand to me, never once breaking eye contact with me.

_I hate you,_ my mind roared. _And you don't even know why! Remember your wedding costume Erik has below? It was me, you angelic, pious wench!_

I blinked once before looking down at her hand. Hesitantly, I lowered my mask and took Christine's hand, shaking it weakly and smiling reluctantly, holding back a torrent of violent urges. I smiled only because I could picture the look of horror on Erik's face if I killed her before him.

"It's an honor to meet you. Madame Giry told me that you were staying in my room all this time. I do hope you have found it comfortable." She smiled again. Her and Jean! Always smiling! It was so frustrating that I almost broke into a vicious rage.

I forced my smile to linger and returned her polite banter. "Yes, it has been very comfortable. I assume that since you have returned you will want your room back?"

Christine waved her hand as if to swat away my offer. "Not at all. I can stay where they put me. Oh, and I have been very rude, forgive me." She motioned to Raoul, who stood beside her protectively, his hazel eyes narrowed at me. I have never been happier to return a glare. "This is Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny. He is my fiancé." She flushed and whispered the last sentence, fondling the engagement ring around her neck.

I fought back a maniacal grin. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and graciously take the Vicomte's hand. "It's an honor, Monsieur. I know you are the patron of this facility now, are you not?"

"I am," Raoul said, his chest swelled in pride. "Although a great deal of my money is being abused by that god damned Opera Ghost. It is plausible that he uses the money simply for whores and wine." He laughed at his own insult.

_That bastard!_

I noticed that Christine's facial expression had remained grave and our eyes met as we pursed our lips at Raoul's scathing remark. Unable to stomach his laughter, I burst.

"He is not to be poked fun at! There is enough blasphemy around with everyone dressed up as him! The man deserves respect," I spat vehemently, yanking my hand from Raoul's in a show of rage.

"Respect? How can you say that?" Raoul asked, aghast. "He kidnapped Christine after her triumph at the gala."

My eyes darted to Christine who was deathly pale. She shifted from one foot to another and her eyes were focused on the floor.

_Your turn, 'angel,' to feel the wrath of _my _torment!_

"Perhaps Christine left of her own free will? Did you ever think of that?"

The Vicomte looked at Christine through narrowed eyes. "Did you go with him willingly, Christine?"

Christine's bottom lip quivered and sparkling tears breached her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. "Just leave me alone!" She fled from Raoul's arms, pushing past some guests and vanishing into the crowd.

"Why did you say that?" he snapped at me, grabbing me arm. "You upset her!"

"If speaking the truth upsets her, that is not my problem," I hissed, yanking myself from his weak grasp once again. I was in no mood to be tampered with. Not tonight.

"How would you know anything about that?" he barked hotly.

"I just have a feeling. In her eyes you can see the weakness of her mind. She could easily be ensnared by any man with a voice as seductive as the Phantom's."

Raoul's eyes narrowed and he looked at me suspiciously. "You have heard him speak?"

_Damn!_

I flushed and shook my head madly. "No . . . of course not . . . I was just using it as an example. I have never heard the Phantom speak. Now, why don't you chase after your future bride before she gets herself groped by a mob of drunken men."

Raoul paled and chased after her protectively, frantically looking back over his shoulder at me as I watched him go with a look shrouded in ambiguity.

When at last he faded from sight, I smiled, feeling as though my own demons were being exorcized as I tormented the fop and the ingénue. "Poor fool, he makes me laugh."

The music began to get faster and I placed my mask gently on a table, watching as Raoul wrapped his arms around Christine and dragged her on the dance floor, moving with her graciously into a waltz. I chuckled, knowing that Erik would undoubtedly plan for claiming Christine as his, seeing as though I had promised myself to Jean. However, I doubt he knew of this engagement.

_Your turn to cry, my dear. It isn't easy losing some one you love, is it?_

"Oh, the fop doesn't know what he is getting himself into. I can feel you Erik; I know you are here somewhere." I peered around, trying to catch a glimpse of the original phantom amongst all the despicable imposters. I wanted to see him again before I left, see his face and burn it into my memory, ever aspect of him. But at the same time I dreaded it, fearing that I could never move on from those eyes, those lips, that heart shattered from my insolence, Christine's fear, and years of pain and hiding.

"Nasrin!" Madame Giry appeared once again beside me, face now rosy from liquor. "Could you grace us with a dance?" She motioned to an empty spot in the middle of the dance floor.

"If you want me to," I answered, grateful that I had something with which to occupy me, as Jean wouldn't come near me now.

Giry pushed me to the middle of the dance floor. Activity stopped somewhat as the actors saw me standing in the middle of the room.

Rolling my eyes, I began to dance to the music Monsieur Reyer conducted. Each crescendo became more and more dramatic as I began to twirl around; my arms spread open wide. A smile grew on my face as the music flooded my veins and reached the innermost confines of the soul. Once again, my troubles dissipated with the chords.

I had been released and immediately, my moves became zealous with the beat of the drums. As the lighting grew stronger, the jewels on my body reflected rainbows of color every which way and I could feel my whole being glow with divine beauty.

Just as the music reached its climax and my twirling became more intense, all of the lights failed at once, plunging the room into darkness but for one door leading into a lit hall. Silhouetted against the light was a figure dressed in crimson silk with a skull mask over the majority of his face. An evil grin betrayed his identity.

"Erik," I muttered, my eyes glued to every movement he made. Once again, I had lowered my defenses and stood powerless in his path.

He began to step slowly, powerfully, down the stairs, opening his arms wide in tainted welcome.

"_Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good?_" Everyone froze in fear as his eyes found mine, sparkling with both desire and hatred. "_Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera!_"

I eyed the black leather sleeve of music he produced from behind his flowing scarlet cape. _Perhaps that is how he dealt with the grief I saw in his eyes._

"_Here I bring the finished score._" He threw it at the managers, who trembled against one another. "_Don Juan Triumphant!_"

His gaze turned to me, hungry and dark, not the Erik I loved; I began to back away, sensing his urge to utterly destroy me at that very moment.

"Hello, my little Fire Rose. How lovely you look tonight," Erik cooed dangerously, drawing his blade.

_What was he doing? Was he going to slay me right here? Rid me of my dignity and slaughter me before everyone?_

I shakily stood my ground. I looked at the blade balefully and crossed my arms, my eyes dulling with indifference. _If he killed me now, I would never be obligated to marry Jean._ The thought was rather intriguing and I found myself moving towards the blade, awaiting my end.

"How does this creature know you?" Jean asked, breaking out of the crowd and walking quickly to my side. I looked up at him nonchalantly and resumed looking at Erik, staring down his satanic glare. Jean stepped in front of me, making himself a breathing barrier between the Phantom and myself. "You will not hurt her," he warned Erik shakily.

Erik narrowed his eyes, his presence as menacing as ever as the Red Death. "I have no intention of harming her, you pretentious little fool. You must be her fiancé, the Comte de Lamarier." His lips curled back into a malevolent snarl and I saw his grip on the blade tighten. "You all thought that dressing up like me would be a grand hilarity. Did you get your laughs?" His eyes fell on each cast member, who shrank back in trepidation. When his eyes fell on Christine, they narrowed and he turned from me to her, striding slowly up to the first forsaken angel. I was torn between being relived and offended.

"Yes, come to me Angel of Music." His voice had become deep with dark passion and I quivered.

I watched as Christine's expression clouded in longing and she released herself from Raoul, walking in a trance towards Erik, mouthing the words, "My Angel of Music." Her eyes were wide as saucers and I could see the grin of triumph on his face

My expression darkened with hate as I watched helplessly as Erik welcomed his angel closer to him. Already tearing, I looked away.

"Nasrin, are you all right?" Jean asked, turning around to face me, placing his hands reassuringly on my shoulders. I nodded mutely, unable to form words with my tongue, which was knotted from unspoken wishes. He wiped a tear from my eye and looked compassionately down at me. "I told you, I'd be here always to protect you. Whether it is from Erik or the Phantom."

I let out a harsh laugh as Erik whipped towards Jean, eyes wide with disdain.

"You do not know how foolish you sound, Jean." I shook my head, noticing Erik grit his teeth in wrath.

Jean leaned in and kissed me gently. I almost kissed him back, but he pulled away to say, "Then at least I am foolish for you."

I turned to see Erik's expression turn black with hate as he stomped back to me. He pushed Jean aside roughly and grabbed my arm and the nape of my neck, assuring that I wouldn't move. I felt nauseating dread pound at my instincts and I thrashed out with my remaining limbs, flailing about helplessly in his arms.

_What are you going to do to me Erik? If you're going to kill me, do it now!_

"You want to protect her from me two fold, do you?" he roared.

_Oh no!_

I looked up at Jean. Now he knew, now he saw, my husband had been the Phantom of the Opera. I was ruined.

Jean's face went as white as chalk. "You're Erik?"

"Yes, you insolent boy. Now, would you like to see who . . . or to what I should say, you are pledging your love?"

_Oh by Allah no, please don't do what I think you are going to do! Please! I am at your mercy! Don't do this!_

He moved his hand up to the top of my head, gripping fast to my wig of beautiful ebony hair. I thrashed harder in his arms as tears streamed down my face. My heart thundered. I had to get away from him. I couldn't let Jean see now!

"I pledged myself to the beautiful dancer: Nasrin Khanum, the Fire Rose, and there is nothing you show me that will make me say otherwise." His voice was quivering in fright, though his statement held promise. He glared back up at Erik, never wavering.

"So be it," Erik hissed. He brutally yanked off my wig, and held it high above his head, just out of my reach.

"NO!" I screamed in torment and fell to my knees, covering my horrid, _horrid_ head with my hands. The thin strands of my smoky hair slipped between my fingers and my small hands couldn't cover my scarred scalp.

_No . . ._

I whimpered on the floor, though I knew it was far too late. All came to complete ruin. Some people screamed, while others gasped in disgust. My eyesight blurred as tears pattered on the floor. I saw very well the look of revulsion on everyone's faces.

In a desperate attempt for comfort, I looked up at Jean. He held the rest of my life in his hands.

_Please Jean, if you really love me . . . comfort me this once . . ._

His face was contorted into a look between pity and sickness. He backed away from me, face crinkled in disgust.

"Jean, please . . ." I whimpered, yearning for him to tell me that it was all right, that my head meant nothing. "Please . . ."

However, he fled my side in terror, leaving me with Erik beside me, laughing in the darkest triumph I have ever known.

"Yes everyone, _this_ is your beautiful enchantress of dancing! _This_ is truly what you have been ensnared by! She is a paradox of herself isn't she? The most priceless beauty, and the most terrible beast!" He leered down at my defeated face, revenge gleaming sickly in his eyes.

"Erik . . ." I muttered, broken and shamed by a bane we shared.

My beauty was corrupted, my dignity raped, and my heart broken and throbbing. Everyone saw me . . . everyone knew . . . I could not dance here . . . _anywhere_ . . . again . . . Jean fled from my side . . . I am no longer married to Erik . . . _I am useless_ . . . I thought to myself as a final wave of anguish destroyed precious remains of my sanity.

I reached up to grab the wig from Erik's fist, though my sight was blurred by unstoppable fresh waves of tears. I snatched it from his fist and yanked it over my monstrosity. Unable to stomach anymore, I fled the foyer and burst out of the Opera Populaire and into the night. I was alone . . . utterly and despairingly alone.

Because of Jean, I had felt the wrench of betrayal once again. And because of Erik, I had no life worth living anymore. The thought of their cruelties filled my heart with loathing.

I despised them both with a hatred not even the Devil could hope to match

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**VictorianDream**: XD! The name of a hug can do much. Well, what hugging does for you, spanking does for others (shrugs) Plus, Erik can be kind of an ass in some chapters. (gives tissues) I know, I felt like a loser crying at my own story . . . but . . . oh well, it was sad. Wow, thank you so much! I'm very flattered. (flushes) (bows) It's people like you that keep me updating! So thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: LOL, I told you it was depressing. YAY! I keep people hooked! (dances) Don't worry, I have your trust, I shall not abuse it. Yes . . . stupid Comte indeed . . . love is a term used so loosely these days. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: (gives you a fan for future chapters) It hasn't quite clicked that what he did will drive her from him. Unfortunately, he can't admit that he loves her because he has yet to admit that she weakens him. He doesn't like being weak (no one really does) so he hesitates putting himself in a situation where he would be around some one who makes him so vulnerable. In the same respect, he doesn't want to live without her, because he knows that they were meant for each other. So when he finally admits to himself that he needs her, she's engaged. I guess it's just the fury that Nasrin abandoned him the same way Christine did, (and in the same place no less) so he sorta just lost his mind. Anyway, soon it will be Nasrin's turn; then you can start fearing. Thanks for the review and here is your update

**BringMeLife**: Welcome to my reviewing family! (bows) Thank you so much! You flatter me as well! Now, I'm not one for giving away endings, so I won't say much in accordance with that, but you'll see as it unfolds, I promise. And yes, your nervousness was well placed. Poor Nasrin! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: O.O;;; I'm sorry! (cowers in corner) I know, I mean, it's upsetting and stuff, and he did just kinda ruin her, but he's hurt. Nasrin would do the same thing . . . oops, shouldn't have said that. Oh, and Erik did cry when he went down to his lair, just I didn't put strong emphasis on it. Nasrin knew she was never going to be over Erik, but staying with him still loving Christine would just pretty much destroy her. She chose to marry Jean simply because she thought all she needed was love. (not the beatles' song kind) But she obviously realized that she made a mistake, because she realized that his feelings for her are deeper than she surmised. In a way, (you'll see how) what Erik did in this chapter liberated her. I know you don't see it now, but she says it later. I assure you! Calm down! We will get through this! Mutant Christine, eh? XD! That is funny, perhaps we should indeed sick 'em on Erik. But for now (as I flee for my life) thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: (gives tissues) There you go, I knew some people would need them. Revenge is a good topic, yes. And I will, practically 4 straight chapters of it. Mwahaha. And love for Erik, oh, that makes the revenge part very hard. Well, Nasrin does want Erik, but she shares him with me all the time so I'm sure she could lend him off to you sometimes. ;-) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: (gives tissues) There you go. Oh, well as you saw, I had to fudge the musical just slightly to have the incident happen. You just have to assume that after she left, everything happens as it does in the movie. (nervous laughter) I tried to keep it as close as possible! I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with it. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL, good, I'm glad you seized the opportunity! Good to hear you had the tissue box at the ready. I assumed that you might need it, lol. Well, Nasrin got slapped all right, but not literally. As you can read in the chappy, she got dealt a worse blow than just a strike of the hand. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**ladyflutter**: Welcome to my reviewing family! I know . . . I know, you just wanna throw them together and say: THERE! YOU LOVE EACHOTHER! GOD! So happy you all like Nasrin, I love her too. (hopes she doesn't sound conceded) Anyway, yes, Erik does have too high of an opinion of himself. Don't worry, Nasrin can put him in check. (wink) LOL, it's all right. I like reviews. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysJackie**: Welcome to my reviewing family! Thank you oh so much! (bows) I agree, Erik should just take Nasrin down to the labyrinth and bang her. I'm sorry, but even as the author I wanted that. But can Erik or Nasrin make it easy on themselves? NO! Silly characters. Anyway, thank you for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: XD! OMG, to anyone who doesn't know why I'm laughing read the review, omg. XD! How I wish! But don't worry, Nasrin has a more bloody approach in mind. MWAHAHA! O.O Erik in nothing but his flesh in a hot tub . . .mmmm delicious. I think I'll use that as an excuse to go in a hot tub, even though it is summer. Thanks for the review and here is your update! (sits in hot tub next to Erik) (purrs)

**Ali**: Welcome to my reviewing family! Any friend of my poozle is a friend of mine! (bows) Thank you so much, you flatter me! (wow I sound like a proper lady. Pft.) Anyway, thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Maska**: You'll see. I shall reveal all! Well, Nasrin was going to marry Jean b/c she doesn't think Erik loves her, and she needs to feel like she is loved, so she is marrying some one whom she knows loves her. (pants) long sentence. But she does love Erik and she isn't marrying Jean for revenge, just to move on. She knows Erik still has feelings for Christine, and her heart was broken when he called her Christine earlier. So she figures that he doesn't love her. What started off as revenge just became a way to escape from pain. Now . . . things got a violent shove into more than escape. Now it is a matter of revenge, and completely justified at that! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	19. The Birth of Daevas

"_The tears I might have shed_

_For your dark fate . . ._

_Turn cold, and_

_Turn to tears of hate!_" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 19: The Birth of Daevas

I ran through the streets, tearing my skirt as I stepped on the ends. I knew that my wails echoed through Paris and some passing people glanced at me. I didn't care . . . not when so much of my world had come crashing down upon me.

_Erik . . .why? WHY?_

I tripped on my skirt, sprawling on the sidewalk and cutting open a gash on my knee. Searing pain shot through my leg and crimson blood began to dribble from my flesh. Stumbling to my feet, I lurched forward and ran again.

_Run little Fire Rose . . . yes . . . run from the only life you will ever have. You will become a love slave now . . . what choice do you have?_

Once the Opera Populaire had vanished from sight, I collapsed on the sidewalk, racked with painful sobs that echoed the torment of my heart. The Seine rushed before me, and I looked at the body of water, panting as I wept. I was in such a state that no one even dared approach me. I solemnly rested my head on the cool stones and tried to regain my breath. My head swam with visions of Erik's twisted face, Jean's look of utter disgust, the noises of terror that had followed my wig being removed.

Thunder boomed in the sky and I looked up in time to be pelted with rainfall. Defeated, I collapsed again, my makeup running in black streaks down my face. I beat at the stone, wailing in shame and torment.

"You damned bastard! Why would you do that to me?" I bellowed into the rain, expecting an answer from the weeping clouds.

Utterly broken, I looked at my reflection in a gathering puddle, noticing mournfully the muddy, tattered remains of my once prized costume. Its ends were frayed, the pure white stained with darkness . . . just like me.

_Who are you trying to impress, Fire Rose? Some one willing to pay you for sexual services? _My dark conscience taunted me, manifesting in my great despair and rejoicing in my grief.

Screeching in ire, I tore the skirt, ripping the expensive garment, mad with rage.

_I will never become a love slave. I would rather starve to death with my dignity than live with such shame!_

When my skirt lay in a frayed mess, I tore one of the straps off my top, leaving myself in soaked rags in the middle of the street. I breathed in heavy sighs as my broken heart pounded hard against my ribcage.

The rain was cold . . . so cold . . . and I began to feel faint. I felt as though I would die in the middle of the street . . . fall and never get up again. What a welcome act of grace it would be . . . No one should have to live with such degradation and shame.

Abandoning all defenses, I looked up at the sky, letting the rain wash away my pain. I smiled as I surrendered to the rain and sighed, spreading her arms wide in welcoming.

"Nasrin!" a voice in the biting wind called. I turned around to face to torrential downpour, blinking as rain clung to my lashes. Out of the darkness I spotted Madame Giry hurrying to my side, trying to hold up her skirt to prevent mud from splashing on it.

"Are you all right?" Giry asked, placing a comforting hand on my bare shoulder.

_Do I look all right to you? Your perception isn't that impaired, is it Madame Giry?_

I shook my head. "No! He betrayed me and humiliated me. My Erik would never do that. He understood my pain, and I his. He is mad, Madame. And now what do I have? All has been taken from me. Jean ran from me, Madame! HE FLED FROM HIS FIANCEE ON OUR WEDDING NIGHT!"

I motioned around me at the strips of cloth that lay strewn on the street. "I have been reduced to nothing. _Absolutely nothing._ I could fall into oblivion and no one would bat an eyelash at it."

Madame Giry wrapped her arms around me, pressing my head against her shoulder. She was a great deal warmer and a lot drier than I had become. "Now, my dear. What Erik did was terrible, no denying it. But Christine has returned to him; he would be consumed by her anyway."

_There now, Fire Rose, _the voice of despair taunted,_ You have been pushed over the brink of madness. Welcome to the inner torment that is your own dark insanity._

I let out a wail like a wounded animal. "What makes her so special? She doesn't love Erik the way I do! She can't! She doesn't deserve to be his angel!" I thrashed from Giry's arms and stood, my eyes wild with madness. "For _my_ humiliation and _my_ loss,_ she_ will be the one to pay, and Erik will be forced to watch as I kill her myself!" I clenched my fists and growled.

"Now, Madame Fire Rose-"

_Call me that again, and I'LL KILL YOU!_

"No! From now on, call me . . . Daevas. I am no longer a confidant, a _lover_ of the Phantom of the Opera. I am his nemesis, his bane." I smiled sadistically. "I will be his undoing. For all he has taken from me, I will take from him."

"Nasrin I beg you, don't do this," Giry pleaded. I could see that she was weak at the thought of two twisted humans ravaging the opera house.

"I'm not doing it! He has already begun the war! This is just a continuation! My ammunition is _nothing_ but my own grief! Tell him that when you caught up to me, you found that I had died somehow . . . that I had been struck down by a carriage and thrown in the Seine. I want him to live with the thought that he murdered me with his tactless assault. Take this." I grabbed a strip of tattered cloth and splashed it in the mud, darkening its purity. I drew a hairpin from my hair and ruthlessly stabbed it into my hand.

Giry screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh!"

I smiled as blood spouted from my palm. I dipped the cloth into the puddle forming in my hand and handed it to Giry. "Make sure that you put the scent of horses on it, Madame. Erik is no fool. However, he was moronic enough to decimate the last shreds of my sanity." I chuckled and Giry shifted uncomfortably. "Pity . . . I rather liked my sanity." I broke into a fit of dark laughter, smearing the blood on my hand over my shoulders, neck and face and darkening the fake diamonds that still clung to my skin. Rain began its frantic assault in attempt to cleanse me.

_Such a waste of water, for more blood will be on me before my time here is up._

I turned from Giry and walked away, disappearing into the rain and leaving nothing but torn shreds of my tattered outfit behind.

_Revenge runs thick in my veins . . . _

xXxXx

**Madame Giry's POV:**

Once Erik had removed Nasrin's wig in front of everyone, I knew he had gone too far, over stepped the boundary of trust that I knew held them together. The look on Nasrin's face was far more disturbing than her distortion itself. I have never seen such torment coupled with such ferocity. Erik might have sealed his fate in front of everyone; I didn't know. But I did see the look on her face when Jean fled from her, looking sickly pale; it was the sick torment that sent a fragile heart careening into darkness.

_The poor girl . . ._

I had never expected such tactless action from Erik in all my time. Always, as long as I have known him, he has used an unsurpassable amount of tact and finesse in every one of his affairs.

After Nasrin had fled in a fit of horrible tears, he had simply looked at me, and I was furious. The only kept me from storming up and giving him a good telling to was the inescapable fact that no one knew that I was Erik's confidant in any way.

I had followed her outside, fighting to catch up to her. She could run; indeed, the Fire Rose sprinted into darkness and I lost sight of her within moments. However, her wails echoed in my ears for hours afterwards.

I had caught up with her, unable to console her, make her see reason. She had been brutally shoved past the point of distinguishing sorrow and madness and shook with fury that rivaled Erik's on select occasions. I had embraced her, trying to console and pacify her, though all efforts to reach her were in vain.

_She was cold against me; her heart seemed to beat icy blood._

When she had left me for good, she had left for me a dangerous plot of deceit that could very well further worsen the relationship between Nasrin and Erik. I knew that Nasrin still loved Erik; she was helpless not to. She was aware, and so was I.

"Daevas you will be, Madame Fire Rose." I had said, looking down at the grotesque piece of cloth she had given me. "But perhaps you do not know the full extent of with whom you trifle."

The howling wind was my only answer. It seemed to mock me, whisper of Daevas's presence but fail to manifest her. I sighed, resorted to speaking to no one but the wind.

"I will bring this to him and tell him of your demise. But do not fail Daevas, for what horrors will wait for me if he finds out that I have deceived him. From now on, the Fire Rose is dead, and Daevas rose from her ashes. Now, the battle between love and obsession can begin."

Lightning flashed through the black sky, and I could swear that in the face of the clouds, Nasrin's face was etched, frozen for eternity in wicked laughter, eyes wide with insanity.

**Notes: **

I believe Daevas is Persian for Devil, that's what I want it to mean. If I'm wrong, forgive me.

**A/N: Thanks to all 20 of my reviewers! WOW! That's a record for me! Thank you! All of you are so amazing! Each one of your reviews brightened my day!**

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: I know, what Erik did was mean, very mean. I wanted to hit him for it. Now, let the war between love and obsession begin! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: LOL, I know, Nasrin just had the worst night ever. Poor thing. Keep in mind, this thing took place before Don Juan, but it definitely influences it, if you know what I mean. (wink) You can huggle Nasrin all you want, but keep in mind, she won't be too much of a happy little thing for a little while, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: I know, I know, a lot of people are in shock. But he doesn't take rejection lightly; I doubt he would get cold feet. He had pretty much set his mind into doing it, unfortunately. (revives) Can't have you dying on me! I don't want to be sued! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**BringMeLife**: (gives tissues) I'm sorry. Be prepared for many tears, for a rose cannot thrive without moisture. Mwahaha. Yes, Erik was a bit of an ass hole in the last chapter. Well, Daevas has some plans for our little phantom! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: Well, she was both, and you can't expect her not to sob her heart out. I mean, the love of her life divorced her, then she got re-engaged right before he was gonna take her back. Then he takes revenge on her and humiliates her in front of everyone, and her fiancé runs away in disgust. Wow, bad few nights if I do say so myself, lol. The graveyard scene? I don't think so, at that time Daevas is doing her own thing. Yes, not too many people use Leroux Christine . . . even though she was the original. (and yes you spelled it right, lol.) Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ali**: Hello again, I know, in disbelief. If you read all the reviews I've gotten for this chapter, they all say like, "Wow!" or "I can't believe he did that!" or "that bastard!" Yeh, so I did get the message across that he can be a jealous ass sometimes. WOHOO! Well, you know Erik, he did what he set out to do . . . would some one like him regret it? Maybe later . . . Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: No, I would _never_ make Nasrin suicidal. She said it before, it was the cowards way out in her view. She prefers the more 'nothing tastes sweeter than justified revenge' type of action. (gives infinite boxes of tissues) As I said to BringMeLife, be prepared for many tears, for a rose cannot thrive without moisture. You shall see as the story unfolds. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: (gives tissues) there you go . . . Jean out of the way? Hm, is he? Or will he return? Oh, I have plans for the Comte, let me assure you, lol. (maniacal laughter) Well you shall see. Anyway, perhaps he never had a guise so much as the broken part of him never manifested. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: SUNBEAM! (glomp) Don't hate Erik, he's a lonely social recluse, even though he kinda just humiliated Nasrin. And Nasrin loves you too.

Nasrin: I love no one.

Shade: You love my reviewers! Because they as well as I love you dearly and want your story to be happy!

Nasrin: Oh . . . um . . . I love you all too.

Shade: GOOD! And yes, Jean is a stupid fop. And mean . . . oh yes, very mean. (gives another box of tissues) And it's Angel of Legends honey! (snaps) Don't know where u've been! (jk, I heart you!) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Maska**: (takes a deep breath) OK, lemme lay it down for ya. No, Erik wouldn't like it if she did that, but he knows she wouldn't, which makes his action a billion times worse. Yes, it is yay that Nasrin isn't going to marry Jean, but at what cost? OK, Nasrin is happy that Christine is engaged to Raoul. She is happy about that. She isn't happy that Erik still loves her and hates her for that, because if you think about it, Christine is the reason Nasrin's heart was broken in the first place. I guess her hatred towards Raoul is just because he is indeed a fop. But yes, she is glad Christine is no longer within Erik's reach, she just still hates her. (shrugs) I would too if I was about to have sex with Erik and have him call me her. I'd slap him! Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: Thank you very much. (bows modestly) Reconcile? Well, I think Nasrin wants nothing of the sort at the moment. Let her fire of hatred burn before it turns into a heat of passion. (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**fantasyelf**: Welcome to my reviewing family! (bows) (becomes somber) (pats) I know, it's sad. Poor Nasrin indeed. (gives tissues) Do not fear! The story is already written and completed so I'm just posting it in intervals. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: Don't worry, Nasrin will torture him in very lovely ways. I can assure you. (To quote you) Moo. Ha. Ha. Nasrin doesn't like pity but she needs it now, doesn't she? Poor thing! LOL, well I don't know what number I'm at, but let me say, whoa. The 200th might be coming sooner than anticipated. As always, thanks for your entertaining review and here is your update!

**brittanypiercey**: Welcome to my reviewing family! I'm sorry, lol. I don't mean to be cruel. I will warn you: there is an evil, EVIL cliffhanger in a few chapters. That's all I will say, but we'll get through it, I promise. Well, you can exhale now, so thank you for your review and here is your update! (sorry if this chapter has kind of a cliffhanger too)

**littledarkone**: I know, I know. (pats) Perhaps in a few chapters, your review will be the same, only the names will switch . . . perhaps . . . Anyway, thanks for the review and here is you update!

**xAngelxOfxMusicx**: Welcome to my reviewing family! Thank you very much! (bows) I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Well, I won't keep you in suspense. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**phantominhell**: Hello again! I haven't heard from you in a while. Thank you very much (bows) I am not fond of stories where Erik is always so compassionate completely towards an OC, so I felt like even though what he did was terrible, it was what he would do. I'm so happy everyone seems to agree. Thank you so much for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: Welcome to my reviewing family! I love your name, so cool! (gives tissues) You will need these, I guarantee it. I'm glad these types of phics are your favorite. Be prepared for much more of it. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: Hello! Welcome to my reviewing family! Thank you very much. Wow, my reviewers flatter me! (flushes) I know, the wig part to me was hard to write . . . but you'll see why it had to be. You'll see Jean's whole spin on the incident in the next chapter, and then the story will really heat up in more ways than one. Really? You think this is one of the best? (flushes again) Wow, thank you so much! (bows) Yes, I don't very much care for Christine, except I know she isn't a bitch, so I don't portray her catty, you know? I just think she's kinda stupid. (nervous laughter) sorry Christine lovers, but if she chose a fop over the sexy beast that is Erik . . . she's nuts. And of course Erik can give you a hug! That's what I bring him into the reviews for! COME ERIK! ANOTHER REVIEWER!

Erik: (walks over) Are you serious? Am I that popular?

Shade: Of course, darling! Now, give my very flattering reviewer a great big hug!

Erik: Fine. (hugs tightly)

Shade: Good! Very good Erik! (claps)

Erik: Like I said, you're selling me off as a slave.

Shade: But you're just so hot! I can't help it! Even though you're not supposed to be!

Erik: (exasperated sigh) (walks away)

Shade: (nervous laughter) probably not the best word choice. Anyway, thanks for your review and here is your update! Huzzah!

**Dragon-mage16**: Yes indeed, it was sad. The bloody approach? This chapter answers it. Mwahaha! OH! Fear Factor gone wrong! YES YES! (maniacal laughter) I like it! LOL! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	20. Out of the Ashes of Sorrow

**Shade: Sorry guys, lol. There are going to be a fair amount of POV changes. So forgive me if it's confusing. I just needed to include the perspectives of a lot of different people. Also, the person belonging to the 200th review gets a prize! Huzzah! And hey, if you don't get 200, you can always try for 300! (wink)**

"_Then at last, a voice in the gloom_

_Seemed to cry, "I hear you!_

_I hear your fears, your torment_

_And your tears!"_

_She saw my loneliness . . ._

_Shared in my emptiness._

_No one would listen . . ._

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears . . ._" –No One Would Listen

Chapter 20: Out of the Ashes of Sorrow

**Madame Giry's POV**:

I walked back to the Opera house, playing my role over and over in my head. Nasrin . . . pardon me . . . _Daevas_ had instructed me to convince everyone that she had been killed and her body unable to be recovered.

_This bears an omen worse than death around it . . ._

This was a very risky trick she was pulling. If she failed, what would become of me? Of my daughter? Of the Opera House?

_Daevas is clever, a very brilliant and cunning girl. She will manage._

Still, I wondered if I was doing the right thing, aiding in a brokenhearted girl's madness. The doors loomed before me. It was time for me to put on the most dangerous pretense of all: the pretense of fake mourning.

I opened the doors and strode through, using the rain as my tears of sorrow. I clutched the bloody cloth in my fist and looked up. Members of the cast looked at me beseechingly, their eyes darting with uncertainty behind the glitzy, sequin embroidered masks. I held up the cloth in my fist and feigned weeping, hiding my head in my hands.

"There, are you all satisfied? The Fire Rose is dead! She is gone! Your reaction to her misfortune killed her!" I met eyes with Christine, who clapped her hands over her mouth and shook her head.

"Oh no! How terrible! Madame Giry, what happened?" Raoul held her protectively; I could see he wasn't affected at all by this faux tragedy.

"As she was running from here, she was struck down by a carriage. The driver threw her body into the Seine; I saw her sink." I fell to my knees and wept, feeling Meg wrap her little arms around me. "Poor Nasrin, only seventeen years of age!" I shook my daughter off me and stood on my feet and fled the foyer, still wailing loudly and brandishing the cloth. I had to go to Erik. It was time to convince the most reluctant of believers; Nasrin the Fire Rose was dead.

I paused.

In essence, she was . . .

xXxXx

**Jean's POV**:

Madame Giry burst in, proclaiming my Fire Rose dead. Dead? How?

_No . . ._

Struck down by a carriage as she fled, that is how my love had fallen. My breath was sucked from my lungs and I felt weak. I felt responsible, not for that bastard Erik's actions, but for my own. I loved her; I had told her. And I hadn't shown it. Her distortion was repulsive, that fact was undeniable. But it wasn't at all strong enough a sight to decimate my love for her.

I had merely been shocked; I had thought she was without any physical flaws, an angel with intangible wings. If that is how she truly was, I would want her to walk around our house without a wig, for to me, she was still the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I had failed to show her, reassure her of that unwavering fact. And now . . . she was dead. Killed by both Erik and I on the night of my wedding.

I felt like a murderer, a wretched, filthy bloodstained creature. This was Erik's doing . . . He had humiliated and shocked her, which contributed to her untimely death. I would make him pay. How _dare_ he impede upon my family. He had forsaken Nasrin, it was only right that she deserve someone who loves her. I would formulate a plan to bring down the Phantom of the Opera, in the name of my beautiful Fire Rose.

xXxXx

**Madame Giry's POV**:

I ran through the corridors, stumbling on the hem of my dress as I reached Christine's dressing room. My heart pounded as I felt the shadowy fingers of fear grip fast to my courage. I closed and locked the door behind me, approaching the mirror shakily.

"Erik!" I called. "Erik, please come here!" I began to cry, sitting down at Nasrin's old vanity. Her scent of roses still lingered about the whole chamber.

The mirror slid to the side and Erik emerged in his Red Death costume, proud and sinister. He was _glad_ he had destroyed her! More monster than man the boy I saved had become. "You called for me, Madame?" he gloated.

Suddenly, I no longer felt pity. I wiped my eyes and wailed, "Monsieur, I'm so sorry!"

"Why are you sorry, Madame Giry?" Erik asked me softly, his voice menacing.

I held out the bloody scrap of cloth to him and opened my hand. He looked down at it, and the parts of his face spared from the black paint paled past white. "It's all that's left of her," I explained, running my finger over the surface.

He leaped out of the mirror, grabbing me harshly by the shoulder. His teeth were bared in fury. "What do you mean, that's all that's left? Where is Fire Rose?" I remained silent. "WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS NASRIN?" he bellowed.

"Monsieur . . . she is dead. This is all that's left." I placed the bloodied cloth in his hand and closed it, still forcing tears from my reluctant eyes. Erik blinked in disbelief.

"How . . . did she . . . ?"

"Struck down by a carriage when she ran from you. The driver threw her body into the Seine. She sank to the bottom."

Erik sniffed the cloth. "I smell no horses, Madame."

_OH NO! I had forgotten!_

"Well, Monsieur, that is because I gathered this strip of cloth from the river. The stench of a horse shouldn't be on it." I thanked God for His gift of cleverness, for Erik became very pensive.

He looked at the wet, dirty, bloody scrap of cloth in his hand and rubbed his thumb over its surface. "She is gone for good." His shoulders sagged and it looked as though he had slung invisible weights across his back.

"Yes," I replied hoarsely, shaking in fear. "Why did you do that to her? Why did you humiliate her in front of everyone in the theater? How could her suffering be of some great triumph to you? She would never have betrayed you thus! God damn you, Erik! You killed the only woman to ever love you!"

I regretted the last sentence as soon as it passed my lips. He looked up at me, his eyes dark with the knowledge that I had overstepped the boundary of respect that lay between us. His upper lip curled into a sneer.

"God has already damned me, Madame. It was not my intention to murder her tonight, or at all." His voice was remarkably soft, and I saw that Nasrin was right; he began to look weak with the thought that he had killed her.

"Then what was your intention? To ruin her reputation? Rob her of a life besides you?"

"We were meant for one another, Madame," he growled sadistically.

"Answer my question, Erik. I am as wrought with grief as you and I deserve an explanation." I put my hands on my hips and glared at him, flicking my braid behind my shoulders.

"If I couldn't have her, I didn't want anyone else to," he replied weakly. I knew now that the fatuous statement had reached him.

I stood up, pursing my lips and shaking my head. "Well, you got your wish." The blow seemed physical for him and he looked at me, seemingly defeated in every way. I left the room wordlessly.

_There Daevas, my part in your plot is complete. Now you must hold true to your word. Revenge is yours; take it . . . use it well._

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

_What have I done?_

_I killed her . . . my beautiful Nasrin . . ._

_Dead in the name of what?_

The blow of one sentence decimated me. My pride, my façade of indifference, my heart destroyed by three damn words:

_Nasrin is dead . . ._

I wouldn't believe it . . . it couldn't be. A simple passing carriage could not destroy such a large part of myself! It would take the wrath of heaven and hell to destroy Nasrin.

You _destroyed her . . . in the name of what?_ the voice of despair asked, taunting me.

_Jealousy, _I replied numbly, the revelation as painful as the death itself. I had killed her, my plan gone horribly awry. I would never in my life, no matter what she became, want her dead. It wasn't in me to destroy such a magnificent creature.

_But you did . . ._

After Madame Giry left me, I stood, numb and breathless in the threshold of the mirror, the bloodied cloth clutched in my fist. I looked down on it once more. This couldn't be all that's left. This useless, languid cloth bared no resemblance to the amazing attire I had seen her wear. I had seen her change from the mirror; I saw her adorn herself with fake diamonds, knowing she deserved real ones. Her dead eyes watched with intensity what she did. The dead look in her eyes was something I hated about what she had become. Ever since we had been apart, I had noticed that look overtake and destroy the sparkle that inhabited her eyes when she gazed upon me.

My lapse in genius had led to the mauling of the most precious flower. Now, the only times I would see her smile were in my mind. Her laughter would never again grace my ears. I would never again feel those lips upon mine, the light brushes of her tongue and her small whimpers teaching me the art of love.

I looked again at the cloth lying flaccidly in my palm. It no longer smelled of roses; it smelled heavily of death. I . . . Erik . . . began to feel _weak_, as if I bled from the inside and I caught myself against the frame of the mirror.

I replayed the image of taking off her wig. I saw her shake beneath me, tensing and trying to cover her head. Only now did the horror of what I did register in my withered inner conscience. How could I possibly commit such a crime against my Dark Aphrodite and _rejoice_ in it until I heard of her death?

I realized now that it was too late for apologies, for prostrating before her and proclaiming my undying affection. Tears ran the black paint around my eyes, sending a dark residue careening down my face between my skin and the mask.

Her affliction became my pain, her death became my passing, and her last breath was my last breath of true life. Without the one that breathed life into me, I was empty, a husk of a man hiding in a labyrinth like a whipped dog.

I placed the cloth in the pocket at my breast and began to shake, overcome in the worst way. "No . . . you'll come back. You must, lest I be forced to live the rest of my life in solitude. Unless . . . Christine . . ." She is engaged to the Vicomte; that was no barricade of concern to me. Since I had lost Nasrin, I would have her.

_Brilliant!_

I moved to close the mirror when something caught my eye in the corner of the room. Crumpled on the floor was Nasrin's old turquoise outfit, wrinkled and forgotten. I walked over to it, lifting it up to my face. Her scent still lingered within it and I shivered as tears fell again. I wouldn't be able to bear the scent of roses once this grief truly set in.

I walked through the mirror, clutching the outfit in my arms. I looked back at the dressing room that seemed to exude her sensual aura. My wretched heart twisted as I realized that her memory would fade and her aura would long be forgotten.

I closed the mirror, once again shrouded in shadows and glad that no one could see the tears I shed for my fallen goddess.

xXxXx

**The Next Morning**

**Nadir's POV**:

I got up unusually early this morning, a nightmare of blood and pain marring my usual dreamless slumber. A strange urge to take a stroll overtook me and I walked through the streets calmly.

_I wonder. . . how is Erik faring with that fiery beauty as his consort? Perhaps I shall check up and see for myself._

I walked up Rue de l'Opera and stopped, gazing up at the splendor of the Opera Populaire. It was a majestic and beautiful creation; there was no denying it. The way the golden sunlight danced across the marble and gold gave me a slight satisfaction. Only Madame Giry and myself knew of the horrors that lay beneath it . . . as well as the beauty.

As my eyes wandered from the roof to the ground, I was alarmed to see a small gathering of flowers and candles at the base of the stairs. I wonder, what happened here? Was there some recent tragedy I have missed?

_Erik . . . why do I have a feeling as though this is your doing?_

I looked at the people gathered around the stairs, noticing they all were Persian. I felt a sickening dread form in my stomach. There is only one Persian I know who could gather such a crowd of mourners. I prayed I was wrong. I ran over, the feeling worsening.

All of the Persians there bowed their heads respectfully at the memorial. I walked forward to it, dreading whom the memorial commemorated. I didn't want to see the truth, if it was as I surmised.

"What is this?" I asked one of them, eyebrows bunched in concern.

One of the other Persians turned to me sorrowfully, and motioned to one of the pictures on the memorial. I turned. Immediately, my eyes confirmed what my heard had dreaded.

There were roses everywhere with candles lit around them, but in the center was a collage of pictures . . . pictures of Nasrin. There were photos of her dancing in the recent production of 'Aladin' as well as one picture from the Masquerade. The other three were from Persia, and she was seen amongst dancers, smiling with an empty look in her eyes.

I immediately removed my fedora and began to mumble ancient prayers in Farsi, touching the posed portrait of her, taken a few months ago. She looked beautiful, resplendent in all her alluring glory. However, that was all gone; she was dead.

"What happened? How did she die?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

Another Persian looked over to me. "Word of mouth is that it happened the night of the Masquerade. Apparently, that hair in the picture wasn't real, and she concealed a hideous, grotesque distortion that the Phantom of the Opera displayed in all his twisted madness. The Fire Rose fled, and that was where a carriage struck her down and her body was tossed carelessly into the river. She has not been found." He began once again to pray. "She was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Allah would have blessed me indeed if I had been her husband. She was engaged to your brother, am I right?"

I nodded numbly. "Yes, she was. After he died, I presented her to a friend of mine. Apparently, he didn't take care of her like I had intended him to."

"You are friends with the Comte de Lamarier?" he asked.

_The who? Erik wasn't a count . . . couldn't be . . ._

I furrowed my eyebrows. "No, I'm afraid I don't understand. She was married to my friend . . . not engaged to a Comte!"

The other Persian shook his head. "In the obituary in L'Epoque, it stated quite clearly that she was survived by her fiancée, Comte Jean de Lamarier. Here it is." He handed me the paper.

My eyes bulged as I read the obituary, clear as day before me, stating that she was to wed Comte Jean de Lamarier after the Masquerade ball. _What of Erik? He had indirectly caused her murder . . . what had festered between them?_

"Do you mind if I take this?" I asked the man, motioning to the paper.

"Of course not," he answered. "But guard that one, for there are mourners all over Paris, and some are scrounging for any one they can find. By Allah, I hope your sorrows are quickly mended." He bowed slightly to me.

"And to you, Monsieur. Farewell." I stormed away from the memorial and gritted my teeth.

_What in the name of Hell had transpired in order to accommodate this bizarre situation?_

I came to the secret entrance into the opera, looked both ways, and vanished into it quickly. Loud music in dark chords echoed menacingly through the corridors. I hadn't heard music this fierce in years; Erik must not be taking this death too well. Such a speculation confused me further. If he was upset about Nasrin's death, why did he murder her in the first place? He was such an enigma . . . always was. I walked through the paths, keeping my hand at the level of my eyes. Though Erik and I held an uneasy friendship, I didn't trust him to release me from one of his traps.

"Erik!" I called over the chords. They immediately stopped after my inquiry and I heard a growl rumble through the labyrinth.

"What is it, daroga? Have you come to inquire as to the death of my wife?" Erik's voice was strained with emotion, but I couldn't place which one.

"Was she you wife? It states plainly in L'Epoque that she was engaged to a Comte!" His lair came into view and he waited for me, pushing the lever to open the portcullis. I gingerly stepped through and walked up to him, hiding my fear behind my eyes. He reached his hand out for the paper and I placed it in his palm. He looked at it, reading the words as if each letter destroyed a little piece of him.

"It was well written. Though . . . it states one thing clearly incorrect."

"And what is that?" I asked, simply to humor him.

"It says here that the love of her life was her fiancée. That is false; that is not what she told me." He pointed to the words angrily, placed strategically next to her picture at the masquerade, her dark chastity beads in contrast against her pure white outfit.

_She had remained a virgin?_

"Who was the love of her life then, Erik? You?" I looked at him, eyebrow cocked.

_My brother had her heart . . . surely Erik knew that . . ._

His eyes narrowed evilly and his lips curled back, revealing gritted teeth. "You say that as if it wasn't possible. That is a shame, because that is what we both knew."

_She deceived you, Erik. She loved no one but Khortdad. Poor delusional man . . ._

"So you say," I muttered, not having the heart to tell Erik the truth. "Would you care to tell me why you drove her to her death? If you say that she loved you, why would you kill her?"

Erik growled. "I was not driving the carriage, daroga; I would never want Nasrin dead."

"Then why is she? What was she doing on the streets in the dark and rain when she should have been in the masquerade? And why was she marrying a count? I gave her to you!" I pointed at him. "You don't know how great a lady you murdered, Erik! The whole damn city is in mourning! What the hell happened?"

Erik sneered before motioning for me to follow him. I trailed behind him, finding it almost inconceivable that he painted so many pictures of her since last night. There were pictures of her dancing, posing elegantly in her many dresses, and in all of them, she was smiling, a fulfillment in her eyes the likes of which I hadn't seen before . . . ever. However in most pictures, her head . . . by Allah, her head. According to the pictures, Nasrin only had eight or nine strands of wispy hair while her scalp was erratic with deep peach scars that dipped in crevices along her black skin. Is that what the man meant when he said she had a hideous distortion? How did something like that happen? And if she was indirectly killed by it, why does she look so happy and comfortable with it in the pictures? I turned to see Erik. He sat down next to a candle and motioned for me to take the seat opposite him. He looked up at me somberly.

"She was marrying a count because I renounced her as my wife a while ago and left her alone. It was a mistake, I realize, and I tried to win her back. I brought my mother's ring to her; I would have proposed. But she had taken my long absence as me no longer wanting her, and she moved on, engaging herself to the Comte only a few moments before I could propose. She didn't show the Comte her distortion, and I revealed her true self to everyone, in hopes that she would see that I alone could bear the sight of her deformity. However, my plan did not go on as I originally intended, and now I have to cope with the loss of my Fire Rose."

So many questions; I had so many questions.

"Was she too difficult for you to handle? Is that why you renounced her?"

Erik snarled and ran his fingers over the candle's flame, moving away just in time to avoid burning himself. "You told me that she was a fiery demon when you gave her to me. I at first despised her insolence; her fervid temper always irritated me." He paused and a hint of a mournful smile creased his face. He suddenly looked so much older than he was. "I realized soon after you gave her to me that you were right, she was wild, just like a fire. Every time you wished to tame her . . ." He stopped his fingers over the fire and I watched as his skin bubbled before it darkened. He quickly pulled it away and looked at the burn. "Every time you tried to tame her, you would be burned by the blaze that vehemently raged within her. Then, you realize that you don't want her to be tame; that she is beautiful because she is untamable, like a fire." He gazed at the candle. "And deceptively just as fragile." He placed his palm over the candle and extinguished it, smoke slipping through his fingers in gray tendrils.

"So that wasn't the reason? What was it?" I implored.

Erik sighed; it was an exasperated, tried sound. "The one time Nasrin and I got slightly intimate . . . I called her Christine. It was a terrible mistake. She and I quarreled and I ended up striking her and throwing her to the ground. She had even held me to console me, and I hurt her. The next morning, she was gone, leaving me with nothing but her scent everywhere. She had gone above, to spend some time away from me. The Comte quickly became an admirer of hers. She flirted with him, knowing that I watched her, that I wanted her. It was cruel, but it was just. After one such instant, she allowed Jean to begin to court her. That set me in a right rage and I renounced her then and there. I knew she loved me; her eyes betrayed everything. I have never seen such eyes as hers." He grew wistful, as if fighting to remember the exact color.

"You loved her?" I conjectured, amazed that anyone could love such a shrew of a woman.

"Love, daroga? I don't even know what that is," he spat. "Was it just obsession that drove me to want her to myself? Infatuation? I don't know."

"And now she's dead; killed by your obsession, infatuation, whatever it pleases you to call it."

His eyes grew dark and his face twisted with rage. "I didn't want to kill her!" He slammed his hands on the table, growling menacingly at me. I drew back in fright, and he suddenly became pensive. "I only wanted her with me."

"Ergo you humiliate her. For such a genius Erik, that was unwise."

He gritted his teeth. "Her death informs me such, daroga. I don't need an insolent old fool like you telling me that."

There was a pause before I ventured one of my other questions.

"Her head, Erik. Is that what it really looked like?" I pointed to the pictures. He followed my gaze and nodded. "Was she born like that?"

His expression suddenly blackened. "Of course not, you fool! Can you honestly remain ignorant to such things? Your brother set her hair on fire!"

_Khortdad?_

"How dare you accuse my blood of such a horrid crime! Khortdad would never do such a thing unless Nasrin was extremely disobedient!"

"He told her not to dance anymore!" Erik roared back, mad with ire.

"I am certain he would have had a better reason than something so trivial."

"That is what Nasrin told me," he spat back.

_Of course she would, Erik . . . she wanted your pity . . ._

I sighed and looked around his lair. On his working desk was a rather large slab of marble, untouched from any of the carving tools. "What is that going to be?"

Erik looked to where I gazed and turned back to me. "It will be a sculpture, daroga. In concern as to of what, I do not need to inform you of every single one of my affairs."

"It's going to be of her, isn't it?" I hypothesized, more as a statement than a question.

He glared at me. "Yes," he admitted, far softer than I had thought he would.

There was uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

"Perhaps you should excuse yourself, daroga. I have work to do." Erik turned from me and sat down by the hunk of marble, grabbing the tools and beginning to carve. I remained still, watching him. After a few moments, he turned to face me.

"I believe I told you to excuse yourself. Do not force me to repeat myself. Get out." His voice became sinister, identical to the cold, heartless Erik I had given Nasrin to.

I bowed and quickly hastened with my exit, leaving Erik to slump back down at his bench, carving away at the marble, a tribute to his bride.

_That's all she was to him, just a companion,_ I assured myself. _He never made love to her; she still wore her chastity beads. Obviously he didn't . . . he couldn't possibly . . ._

My mind was immediately struck by a painful revelation.

_It usually takes too long a time for scorned flesh to realize that it can be loved as well._

_Then,_ my mind realized. _Erik and Nasrin did love each other._

xXxXx

**Daevas's POV**:

I was relieved that my dignity no longer mattered, since I was 'dead.' Otherwise, my dignity would have been destroyed once I assembled my new guise. Cloaking myself in black and hiding my face, I ran first to a wig shop in order to purchase a new wig. Picking out the most devilish one I could find, I bought it with some of the money I had stolen from Erik when she left him almost a year ago. Apparently, that bastard was good for something.

I bought a few yards of fabric, sewing it into a scandalous red dress, which revealed a decent amount of my chest. There were two slits in the dress that went all the way up my legs, revealing everything up to my waist. The dress was tight around my waist from a black corset and the dress ended around my ankles. My god damned chastity beads were concealed in a black fabric that was wrapped around them and sewn shut. In order to somewhat cover my legs, I bought fishnet stockings from a shop meant to supply whores and prostitutes. The black stockings went up to the middle of my thigh before fastening in a clip that was attached to my undergarments. To better blend in with a normal Parisian, I had bought blood red shoes to cover my feet.

In an alleyway a few blocks from the opera house, I put on my final props: my orange wig that fell to just beneath my breasts and my new mask, which was large, red and black, and concealed my forehead, nose, eyes and cheeks. For an arcane reason, I found that in my madness, my eyes had forsaken the green, and left me with dark blue, almost black eyes. I was ready; revenge pulsed through my heart, becoming my life force. I despised myself for ever trusting Erik, for believing in him . . .

_For loving him . . ._

No longer . . . love or not, his reign had to end. I was finished being tormented by him. Turnabout is fair play . . .

"Now, let the reign of Daevas begin." Throwing on my long black cloak to conceal my unusual and taboo attire, I ran towards the opera house, cloaked in shadow.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

After Nadir left, I put down my chisel. I couldn't sculpt now. I couldn't do anything. I turned to face the army of pictures I had created in my despair. Countless copies of Nasrin's eyes looked at me and I hated them all; I cannot recreate the beauty Nasrin had. I could never do her justice and the thought drove me mad. I was determined to make the sculpture perfect, lifelike; it was how I planned to spend countless days and nights. For now, my hand couldn't hold steady and I forsook the marble in favor of my organ.

The piece I had been working on in her honor was almost complete but for the words. I wasn't struck with any ideas, and it drove me insane. I sat at the organ for a long few moments, and when no ideas struck me, I threw the music aside and moved to a blank piece of parchment. An idea struck me immediately and I began to draw quickly.

I drew the face and figure of a girl enjoying the gentle caress of a breeze. Her eyes were closed and her slender fingers ran through her long black hair. When I finished, my eyes wandered down from her upturned face, down her ample bosom and her curvy waist, on which laid those damned chastity beads. Nasrin. It was always Nasrin; it would only ever be Nasrin.

_I never cared about taking life before. Why is this death affecting me so deeply?_ I asked myself. I had killed Buquet, along with many others over the course of my life.

_You didn't _love_ any of them. To kill some one you love hurts more than most pain you will ever feel._ My conscience spoke the words I would never admit, even to myself. I gritted my teeth as I felt a lifetime of sorrow well up behind my eyes. A tear fell on the parchment as I wrote her name under her portrait. "Nasrin Khanum the Fire Rose: My Dark Aphrodite."

I touched the dry ink that framed her face and followed the curves of her body longingly. Christine's body was far more pure, virginal, than Nasrin's was. Nasrin's body was dark, sexual, and I doubt there would be a time where I wouldn't miss it.

I looked back towards the portcullis. I heard water splashing from someone's lithe strides and I thought Nadir had returned for some trivial reason. However, a voice boomed towards me, harsh in the language of Farsi. It was a woman, and I felt a sense of unease settle in.

"_A new Phantom's haunting the theater,_

_Who despises music of the night._

_Now I, the Daevas, command you_

_To step down or fight!_"

Who does she think she is, coming into _my_ lair the day after the death of some one close and demand my immediate obedience? I growled back.

"Who is it that storms into _my_ lair uninvited and manages to survive the traps?" I roared, still not seeing the origin of this voice.

The reply was quick. "Daevas! I come in the wake of the blood _you_ spilled! As the Fire Rose fell, I rose from her ashes! She was a great confident of mine, and I came to haunt that which destroyed her!"

I stood, my chair scraping hard across the rock. "It is not wise to challenge me! Pitiful fool, so sure you are of yourself. Though by proving you could come here without dying, I have a sliver of amusement in you! Keep in mind that my curiosity is the only thing standing between me and your demise!" Perhaps ridding myself of such a pesky nuisance could satisfy my rage.

Daevas roared back, drawing closer to the portcullis separating her from myself. She was bathed in light, and I paled as I saw the crimson and black adorned creature before me.

Her body was extremely beautiful, but her presence exuded the rancid odor of evil. Blood red cloth billowed out behind her in the water, looking very much like the fallen angel's wings. I wanted to see her face, if such a beautiful figure could be coupled with a beautiful face. The only part of her face I could make out were her black painted lips and her chin.

"If you will not step down and yield to me, I will destroy everything you hold dear!" she threatened, her smile tainted by the black lip paint.

_Can one take revenge on a broken man?_

I looked at her ruefully. "I have already lost my rose . . . all I have left is my angel. Do you think it wise to tempt a desperate man?" I grew angry at the thought that Christine would rob my happiness of me a second time. What would I do if she rejected me?

"My plans have little to do with wisdom. Why?" Daevas asked, obviously feigning confusion.

I shook my head, Farsi rough upon my tongue. "Then I can _almost_ say I pity you, for if you harm a hair on my angel's head . . . I'll make certain that your death is not dignified."

She laughed . . . the horrid creature before me _laughed_.

I watched Daevas approach me slowly, in a confidence I had never seen in a woman, nor ever wanted to see again. She stopped in the middle of the lake. "Perhaps it will be _you_, my good Monsieur, whose death will not be dignified." She pointed at me with one quivering finger, her teeth gritted and I saw behind the mask, her dark blue eyes narrowed, glittering with twisted promise.

I began to wade into the lake over to her, spreading my arms wide and a warped gleam in my eyes. If she wanted a war, she had found one. "Is this battle between us to be centered around our egos?"

Daevas smiled evilly. "Only if that is what you make it. _You_ may make it to be a war of egos, but _I_ am bent on revenge: sweet, bloody, revenge." She snickered and backed away from me, vanishing into the shadows beyond the portcullis, becoming no more than a demonic silhouette. I watched her leave with a weight in my stomach.

_Why is it that I feel this war will have consequences I dare not think of? _I asked myself.

_Because,_ my conscience answered that which I already knew. _Revenge runs thick in her veins. You have encountered a creature so twisted that spilling blood is her creed._

_Then,_ I replied, _that is what I will become._

_Erik, you already are . . ._

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! My God you guys are all so wonderful!**

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! It seems to grow much of late. Well, Madame Giry simply meant that Christine had returned (even though she's engaged to Raoul) and merely speculated that Erik would be consumed by making her love him. Unfortunately, he did love her first. Don't worry, you will see as it unfolds. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: Sorry the last chapter was short. A lot is made up here, I hope! Yes I try to update every other day. Sometimes it doesn't work, others it does. LOL, anyway, keep the tissues close (though I don't think you need them as much this chapter.) Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: LOL, I find ways for the plot to thicken. Wait until Daevas gets into full swing. Mwahaha! I am evil. You will see; Erik gets his competition, all right. And it will suck when Daevas actually sees all the stuff Erik drew of 'her.' Let's just say I put one of the genres as angst for a reason, lol. (joins evil laugh) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jessie**: Every other day I update, lol. Keep that in mind if you go away. LOL. Thank you very much, thanks for your review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL, thank you! I know, pity and anger go hand in hand sometimes. (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: LMAO! Wow, Jean is well hated. Good! I didn't want anyone liking him! (celebrates) Yes, Daevas is pretty much Nasrin's reincarnation. Her eyes even changed color in her madness. O.o; Oh yes, the party is just getting started. Revenge going at least 4 ways is awesome! And as for the fate of the Comte . . . oh you'll see. (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: YAY! You live! Huzzah! Thank you. Daevas knows what she's doing; she is very smart. Only, emotions can get in the way of stuff, you know? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: I'm glad I cleared stuff up. YAY! Don't worry, he gets what's coming. (turns into Chicago stage) He had it coming! He took a flower in its prime! And then he used it! And he abused it! OK, I'm done. (nevous laughter) Thank you, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**ladyflutter**: Oh yeah, Nadir didn't know it was going to end up being such a match, but hey, stuff happens, lol. Erik does deserve this. (nods) As for Nasrin being permanently insane? Well, we'll see . . . I can't say. LOL! You actually looked it up! Wow, that's awesome! Well, we'll go with Daevas and if I'm wrong and Daevas ends up meaning cake, we can pretend it means devil. I just looked it up again . . . it was the name of a demon that was everlasting and a sworn enemy to Ahura Mazda in Zoroastrianism. Nasrin's a muslim . . . but oh well. So it kind of is a devil. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: Dark Fire Dancing Raging Wrath of Doom? XD! That's very amusing. XD! Don't worry, everyone wants Erik to get what he deserves, I assure you it will happen, lol. There I updated! Don't sick your rats on me! EEP! Thanks for the review!

**Corpse x Bride**: (gives tissues) Oh don't worry! Erik gets it! Don't worry. GO GIRL POWER! W00t! Thank you for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: Yes, immediate reconciliation is pretty much out of the question. -.-; Yes, let hatred burn for a while . . . the passion . . . . I'm not gonna say anymore. (joins evil laughter) Thank you for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: oh yes. (joins) OOOOOh, breeding tools! XD! Sounds good to me! Don't fear about the passion! Fires will ignite! Let me just say the story will be bumped up to M in a few chappys. It's a small world after all? LMAO! So true, so true . . . Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: Yes, right now, Nasrin/Daevas will be synonymous with fear. LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update Sunbeam! From Shadebean!

**Ali**: Well, love makes you do crazy things. Especially when you have been severely betrayed by it. Well, she left b/c he called her Christine . . . I'd leave too, lol. Don't worry, I said before that the story goes along with the movie pretty much. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: LOL! However many times you wrote it was hilarious. XD! Nadir found out in this chapter so he is part of it again. You are most certainly special enough! See, if you never reviewed any of my chapters, I would only have 183 reviews. And 183 isn't nearly as cool as 188. It just isn't! I don't think he can kiss anyone on the lips; Nasrin would kill him. But a hug and a kiss on the cheek he can most certainly do! Erik!

Erik: All right. (hugs tightly) (smooch on cheek)

Shade: (celebrates) I think at the end I'll have him kiss all my reviewers. Until then, I hope that suffices somewhat! OOH! When you post, e-mail me! (My e-mail is under my profile) I'll certainly go read your stuff! (is flattered to be on your review list) thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mlle. Margarette Rose**: Hello, welcome to my ever growing reviewing family! Oh no! Don't die! I have updated, see? Ooh, blueberry muffins are yum! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**xAngelxOfxMusicx**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! Wow, thank you so much! (bows bashfully to applause) Wow, all my reviewers are so nice to me. I love all you guys! (applauds for all of you) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Artemis12's phantom**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! Well, I don't know if you missed that, but Nasrin didn't want to marry Jean b/c she _loves_ him. She hates him. She was going to marry him because she thought Erik didn't love her. Erik knows Nasrin loves him; that thought alone drove him to do what he did. And as for the happily ever after, who says it's completely ruined anyway? Hearts mend, even through madness. And also, she may have engaged herself to Jean, but she would never unmask him in front of everyone. Although truth be told, she wasn't hated and scorned her whole life . . . I guess that makes it a deadlock. I am interested to see what you think about later chapters. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: I haven't heard from you in a while. Hello again! LOL! Wow, yes, Erik realizes his lapse in genius. Don't worry. I was just referring to the fact that Christine returned to the opera house. She followed Nasrin after she went out, remember, so she wouldn't know if Christine went below or not. XD! Obsession takes the best of us at times, I know. Well thank you, I am pleased to hear this is one of your favorites. (bows) I hope future chapters don't disappoint. Anyway, thank you for the review and here is your update!


	21. Farewell, my Little Fire Rose

**Shade: Sorry this post took a little longer. It was difficult to write and I was preoccupied. So anyway, I hope you guys like it! Thanks to Jessica for my 200th review! Enjoy! Oh and if I don't post every other day, I'm sorry. I have a lot of summer stuff to do and up until now the chapters were prewritten, now I have to actually work! (gasp) So if my posting schedule is erratic, that's why. Anyway, read!**

"_It's in your soul_

_That the true distortion lies . . ._" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 21: Farewell, my Little Fire Rose

It was over . . .

Utterly and completely done . . .

The ones who had scoured the Seine for any sign of Nasrin had given up. She was nowhere to be found; it had only been three weeks since the accident. They assumed her body washed out to sea, that it never would be found. The news weighed heavy on my heart; though if they did find a body, I don't think I would have been able to cope with the view of it. I couldn't bear seeing what my tactless assault did to one I cared for so deeply.

And now, today was the funeral. She was to be buried in a sepulcher in a cemetery a few miles away; however it would house an empty casket. I slung on my cape, my mask concealing half of my tears and my hat overshadowing the rest. With a bouquet of black roses clutched in my fist, I vowed that I would place them on her casket, no matter what that meant afterwards. Perhaps that action would rid me of the black guilt that laughed at me unceasingly.

I left my lair in a state of discord; I would deal with the mess when I returned. The funeral was to be held in Notre Dame, which I found utterly insulting, for Nasrin was a Muslim. However, I could see why; the church was built to accommodate a large crowd, which would undoubtedly arrive to say their final farewells.

_I didn't want to say good-bye . . ._

I took a carriage over to the church, wondering why it was that tears bloomed without hesitation from my already bloodshot eyes. This death was too much for me to bear; I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, by God could any man suffer as I did?

I walked up to Notre Dame, hiding my face from any who craned their necks to look at the cloaked stranger. None wept, however there was a crowd far beyond my comprehension gathering by the church. I hurried inside, irate that there were no more seats, and only places against the wall provided for a viewing. Nadir stood against the far wall, shaking in a rage I had previously noted.

"Erik? You are above ground?" Nadir asked, aghast. I covered his mouth and raised my hat slightly, allowing him the sight of a broken man's face.

"I, like so many others, came to say good-bye," I whispered, my voice choking as I uttered it. The roses began to crumble under my grip, and I hadn't dreamed a farewell could be so exhausting on the heart and mind. I heaved a sigh and the priest stepped up beside the coffin, blessing it with the sign of the cross; a sign which meant nothing to Nasrin's god. How utterly insulting and degrading; I bubbled with rage.

"Erik, be still," Nadir hissed at me. "You don't want attention drawn to yourself, do you?"

"Not until I say good-bye to her," I hissed back, wary of the glares people gave me.

In the final insult that set me in a boiling frenzy, Jean stepped up and began to speak, tears streaming down his face.

_The final blow . . ._

_How DARE he! How . . . DARE . . . that . . . FOP . . . speak of what he knew NOTHING of!_

Jean's voice was a cacophony against my ear and I began to slowly walk up the aisle, ignoring Nadir's grabs at my arm. I bowed my head and trudged up, the bouquet clenched tightly in my shaking fist. I heard a snarl echo through the place and I knew I wasn't the only one shaking with bridled wrath.

"Monsieur, please, sit down until the service is over before you place flowers on the casket," Jean said quietly, his voice as empty as I knew mine to be.

"No," I growled. "I have a question for you, _Monsieur le Comte_." I reached the casket and I backed away from it; I didn't want to touch that which would have been my goddess's final resting place.

"Yes, Monsieur. What is your question? Ask it whilst I am in the middle of a eulogy." Jean's face was set in stark rage.

"Thank you for your invitation, Monsieur. Did you know Nasrin was a Muslim? She was not a Catholic; she did not speak Latin prayers to your god. I must express my disdain in that you held her funeral in another religion's house of worship. I implore you to move this to a mosque where it would be proper for her." I bowed mockingly to Jean.

"Well, there aren't any mosques in Paris, Monsieur," Jean scoffed. "And I am a Catholic; she would have become one, had she married me. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to finish the service concerning my wife."

"She was not your wife! She was your fiancé! How dare you claim that which was never yours!" I was ready to strike him when Nadir grabbed my arm, preventing my advance.

"Don't be insolent again, Erik. What would Nasrin have done?"

_She would have laughed . . ._

I receded, my lips curling into a snarl fabricated of sorrow and fury. Nadir grabbed my arm and led me to the back of the church; I fought urges to wring the Comte's neck, a Punjab lasso tucked safely under my dress coat for such an occasion.

I watched the rest of the service with clenched fists and gritted teeth; Jean spoke of the moment Nasrin and he met, adding nauseating amounts of drama to accommodate his ill-told love story. He lied about his times with Nasrin, claiming to have spent hours on end talking of philosophy and romantic views. It brought members of the church to tears; whereas I . . . oh I wanted to squeeze his windpipe until blood gushed from his eye sockets, then throw him in the casket meant for Nasrin and drown _him_ in the Seine.

Suddenly, in the middle of his speech, I heard the groan of eroding rock. I pressed myself against the wall, immediately sensing whom it was who would dare disrupt such noble blasphemy. A stone angel crashed to the ground, shattering as if made of glass into thousands of pieces. Most of the people screamed and I heard her; I heard her sickening laughter rumble throughout the church as Jean looked ready for flight, his eyes wide and searching.

In a moment she appeared, landing nimble on the back of a pew and strode slowly, yet confidently across the wooden bench. I saw a woman scoff at her, and Daevas replied with a firm kick to the hat. The length of her leg was completely exposed and I shifted uncomfortably. Was I attracted to such a creature? She stormed up to Jean, fists clenched in an iron rage and grabbed his collar, proclaiming the truth only she and I knew. Nothing that came out of the Comte's mouth held any weight to the truth. She was free enough to express such truths without the risk of being imprisoned and murdered.

Jean, without hesitation, proclaimed that it was _I_ she was married to before. The look on Daevas's face was of pure shock and if this hadn't been a church full of onlookers, I would have hanged him right then and there. Of course, I watched as Daevas leaped on Nasrin's coffin, stringing her rope around the head of another angel, and hoist herself up. Her body tensed as she climbed. Jean tried to take her down by grabbing the rope and pulling; what a fatuous hope, to kill her by dropping a stone angel on her. I already knew she was smarter than to fall prey to something so pitifully easy to avoid.

In an act perfected only by a beautiful woman, she gently pushed the angel, aiming to crush Jean and the black coffin. I was very hopeful for a few moments, finding it ironic that the man who paid so much for the empty casket would find it with a body anyway. Instead, a surly man who sat in the second row pulled him out of harms way. The angel crumbled without blood darkening its wings like I had so fervently hoped. In a fit of maniacal cackles, Daevas vanished from sight.

Jean shakily stood back up and continued with his eulogy, his limbs twitching in fear spasmodically. "And so, Mesdames et Monsieurs . . . I bid a painful farewell to my Nasrin; we were meant for each other and I will miss her terribly. I hereby declare that I will never take a wife. Good-bye, my fair Nasrin." He kissed his hand, ran it over her coffin and took his seat in the pew.

One by one, people began filing up, placing red and white roses on the casket as the priest blessed it one final time. I filed in, not enjoying the feeling of all these bodies pressing up against mine. It made me uneasy. But as I drew closer, I looked down at the roses in my hand, choked in my fist. Where would these roses end up if I placed them upon the coffin? They would be thrown away carelessly after all the mourners left. My Nasrin deserved better than that.

I drew one rose from the bouquet and, once my turn came around, set it gently on the casket, kissing the petals as I did. I turned and found myself facing Jean, his face twisted into a rather amusing impersonation of a scowl.

"Only one rose you spare for her, yet you bring a bouquet?" I raised my head to him and growled. His face paled beyond white and he began to stammer. "Th . . . the . . . Phant . . . the Op . . ."

I smiled and brushed past him angrily as he gathered his bearings. Nadir met me in the middle of the aisle and I stormed past him, intent on making a more spiritual and loving tribute to her; one that she would find touching if she were here. On my way out, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows, cloaked in darkness with only dark blue eyes boring into me. Was the emotion pity I saw? I didn't stay around long enough to confirm; I didn't want to show Daevas the gaping hole with which Nasrin's death had left me.

I leaped into the nearest carriage I saw and spat, "The bank of the Seine closest to the Opera Populaire."

"What?" the driver asked.

"NOW!" I barked; and the carriage thundered off just as Nadir burst out of the church. I didn't look back; I would never go in that place of worship again. I loosened my grip on the roses and I saw that the thorns cut deep into my palm and blood oozed over them.

I watched as Paris flew by me; the beauty of it was far from what I expected. I had always drawn it out to be a desolate, scornful place. But when one applies the proper masks, it becomes a very welcoming city. I yearned to be normal, without this grotesque distortion that plagued my very existence. I knew what it felt like . . . to feel as though nothing is awry with me. That I didn't need to change or hide who I was. It's how I felt every moment I spent with Nasrin.

Nasrin . . .

"Monsieur, the Seine," the driver spat.

"Thank you," I spat back, dropping coins into his filthy hand. I slid from the carriage and looked at the large body of water that stole my happiness from me. It was a beautiful river, but not as a resting place for one so needed. I walked up to its bank, smelling the rank smell of the water as it lapped up against the stone walls. I sighed despondently and kneeled down at the base of the river, roses hanging loosely out of my fist.

"Nasrin . . . you deserved better than what that Comte could give you; what I could give you . . . you deserved better. I . . . I was . . ."

_SAY IT!_

"I was _wrong_ to do what I did. I never wanted you dead; I never expected you to die by my hand . . . I never realized how much death could hurt. I'm sorry, my darling . . . to have done that to you. I know you cannot hear me . . . but please try . . . from whatever waters you may drift to . . . know that I care for you . . . I would have done anything to have you for my own . . . for my greed . . . I'm sorry, my little Fire Rose. Can you forgive me this one . . . last . . . time?"

The tears came; I fought against them with all my being, but they emerged regardless. They tumbled from my eyes and onto the dark petals of the roses, which shook in my arms as I wept. I wept for Nasrin, for the fact that I killed her, for the fact that I had cared for her so deeply and was now left a wreck since she was gone.

I let the roses go from my fist, watching them cascade down into the water and create hundreds of tiny ripples that spread out in beautiful circles upon impact. They were drawn in by the current immediately and floated away from my view, sparks of black in clear blue water.

Sighing, I hung my head and wiped my eyes; no one could see that I had been struck this vulnerable. Suddenly, hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. I looked up in rage, ready to spill blood, when I was met with the sight of Daevas.

Although I planned to hang her right there, she was looking at me somberly and motioned to the roses in the river.

"You brought those for her?"

"Yes," I answered. I motioned beside me. "Come and sit down." I needed someone, _anyone_, even if Daevas and I were mortal enemies from here on, to keep me company for a few moments.

"Why?" she asked, cocking her head suspiciously.

"Because, you mourn as I do. Would you like to pay tribute to her as well?" I motioned to the water. "It was here, after all, that she was thrown."

Daevas sat down beside me, covered by her black cloak and looked blankly out at the water. She turned to me and I swore I caught a flicker of green in her eyes.

"I heard everything you said. You really didn't want her to die, did you?" Her stare was piercing, critical of my every movement.

"Of course not. I wanted to hurt her yes, but never kill her." I watched as the roses faded into the distance. "I wish I had one more chance to see her, to tell her everything that was left unsaid."

She picked some grass at her feet and twirled it in her fingers. "What was left unsaid?"

I glared up at her. "It doesn't concern the likes of you."

Her expression hardened. "Fine, I was just wondering. Did you love her?"

Again with love . . . such a complicated word!

"What I did at the Masquerade was an act of love."

The green faded from her eyes and she stood on her feet, kicking me in the chest and slapping me hard across the face. Her blows stung and I gasped for air.

"Don't you dare say that to me! Don't lie! It was out of jealousy, rage or spite! I'd rather you say that! But don't you _ever . . . EVER_ tell _ME_ that it was an act of love!" She raised her hand to strike me again before she backed away, realizing that we stood on public property and we both were acquiring a vast amount of hostile stares.

"I'll be waiting for you back at the opera. Don't you ever lie to me like that again. I'll make the death of your angel more painful each time you cross me."

_No . . ._

"Daevas!" I cried as she vanished into the crowd. I saw her eyes glitter into the most evil of slits before a person walked carelessly in front of her and I lost sight of her. I looked mournfully back at the river.

"Forgive me, my little Fire Rose . . . please find it in you to show compassion for me one last time and let Daevas realize that I cared so deeply for you . . . Please . . . my goddess . . ." I fell into another unwanted fit of tears as I realized that I would never get an answer.

xXxXx

**Daevas's POV**:

I woke up this morning in my lair . . . yes _my _lair. It was accessible only by pulling the arm of one of the statues that lined the labyrinth.

It was a large and elaborate hall with stone pillars keeping the enormous structure from collapsing into itself. There were numerous crimson carpets and tapestries that lined the walls and floors. I had suspended a small chandelier above it and it illuminated the lair with golden light. Piles of messy blank pages were strewn everywhere. Some few papers had notes scribbled on them, and a makeshift violin lay in the corner, made of old wood and crooked strings.

I had installed a grate in the ceiling, so that every opera rehearsal and performance was heard perfectly should I wish to stay below ground instead of prowling the rafters.

I looked around at it fondly, smiling. It had taken me three weeks to perfect without any sleep and sparse rests for eating. But now it was my haven: my beautiful, unknown, solitary haven.

I stretched in my bed, yawning widely and groaning as my back cracked. It was time I pay another visit to the phantom; I had left him alone and comfortable for three weeks as I built this lair . . . _far too long for such a creature to remain in peace . . ._

Growling in eager anticipation, I pressed my mask to my face and slid my stockings up my legs, fastening the clasps and slipping on my shoes. Sucking in my stomach, I tied the corset on my waist, wincing as it forced my shape into a more obedient figure.

I opened the door to my lair and grabbed my only weapon: a thick, long piece of rope. Walking through the entrance, I quickly closed the door and crept closer to the portcullis, my heart thundering in expectancy. When I reached the iron bars, I was in shock to see him pick up a bouquet of roses and walk out, his cape blowing behind him.

Where was he going? Ah yes . . . my funeral. The man actually was braving capture by attending this affair. After he closed the door, I climbed up the portcullis, tying the rope into a lasso. I hastily threw it across the lair, laughing as it closed in on the lever that raised the barricade. I jumped off the iron bars and pulled until the hinges groaned and the barrier was raised.

I walked through the threshold of his doorway, my dress floating aimlessly around my legs. Upon seeing his lair up close for the first time in a long time, I clapped my hands over my mouth and ran over to his working desk.

My face was everywhere, grinning, frozen in beautiful nobility, elegantly smiling as my eyes betrayed a happiness deeper than my lips showed. Me . . . me every which way I turned; or . . . rather . . . who I used to be. I touched an oil painting of me dancing. My hands were above my head as my hips were in the midst of moving to the right. I was looking down and thick locks of hair that could only belong to my wig flew past my face; only my eyes remained untouched by the hair. It was beautiful . . . not in the way that I am vain . . . but how Erik had captured motion, emotion, and how his own passion seemed to inhabit every brushstroke.

I had to get away from all of this; I was getting weak again by his fervent desire. Allah, curse him for having this power over me, even when he himself was not beside me.

I backed away frantically, intent on escaping this shrine of passion that I no longer wanted to be a part of. My bottom slammed into hard stone and I jumped up, hearing it rattle. I turned around, grabbing what I had knocked into and gasped. I held in my hands, my own face, carved perfectly in marble. Stopping, I examined it, touching its features and then my own. It was a perfect replica; and I stood gaping in amazement. How could he possibly remember my face that well?

I began to tear and I immediately choked back emotion. The man who wanted to break me, destroy me for leaving him, made this. Was he truly in this much agony over my death? I touched the statue's cheek and moved away quickly. This was too much . . . too much for me to take.

A piece of organ music caught my eye on the ground and I picked it up. There, underneath the dedication, was what used to be my name: "Nasrin Khanum . . . my Dark Aphrodite and little Fire Rose" . . . me . . . I was everywhere. _I_ was now the object of his obsession; Christine couldn't hold a candle to this.

_Look how you have tormented your love . . . everywhere is you . . . he loves you . . . you are no better than him . . ._

This was true . . . I wanted to hold him and simply love him forever. No . . . I promised myself; not again . . . no more of this . . . so what is it a concern of mine if he mourns my loss? He should; he did kill me. In essence Nasrin the Fire Rose was dead, and only Daevas remained; only my hate survived blow he dealt me.

_Your love survived as well . . ._

Perhaps I should see him; I wanted to watch him mourn over me with my own eyes. Then . . . perhaps then I could forgive him. I ran back to my lair and grabbed my black cloak, hiding my hair underneath its black hood and stormed out into the light.

I hailed a carriage and climbed into the seat, sitting in agitation and crossing my legs. The driver looked back at me and I saw him stare hungrily at the length of my leg. Placed tauntingly in his view were my black stockings, as well as the clasp that held them in place.

"Are you um . . . new here? I could have sworn I knew every one of you."

"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes as he mopped his brow.

"Well, you're a prostitute aren't you? I've never seen you around here. Are you new in the Exotic Kitten?" He reached out to grab my leg and I snarled, kicking him the face.

"Drive the carriage, Monsieur, before I come to my senses and throw you under the horses' hooves!" I seethed, raising my fist to strike him again.

"Not before I know your name, Mademoiselle. I want to come to you for future services." He jumped in the back seat with me, grabbing at my breasts. I roared and punched him in the face, my knuckle cracking bone. He staggered back and fell out of the carriage, splashing in the gutter and rolling around.

I leaped in the front and snatched the horses' reigns, slapping them against the hind flanks and urging them in the direction of Notre Dame, where, Madame Giry had informed me, my funeral was being held.

Bastards, didn't anyone realize that I was not of the Catholic faith? Perhaps it was to accommodate a large amount of mourners; that was the thought that would satisfy me.

"Mademoiselle?" a man asked as I stopped the carriage before him. "Can you take me to-"

"I'm not a driver. Take the reigns yourself should you so desire." I thrust the reigns into his hands before storming off, growling. I heard the horses thunder off and the cries of the man follow. I didn't even bother looking back.

I glared at anyone foolish enough to stare at me and I ran behind the church, walking in the back door. I scrambled up the rafters and leaped nimbly until I had reached the main room. I hid behind the statue of an angel holding a lyre and peered down. The crowd was far smaller than I expected it to be and I snarled. Then, at the back of the church, I saw him standing next to the daroga and growling.

He was angry . . . at what?

Then I heard Jean begin to speak a eulogy for me and I snarled, my voice reverberating through the hall.

He paused and looked up in time to see Erik stride up the aisle, personifying my rage. I snickered quietly and watched my two suitors bicker in the midst of my funeral.

Watching them both made me realize who it was who truly was the wiser. Unfortunately, it was Jean, for Erik risked his life simply to place a bouquet of roses on the coffin of a living person, while Jean mourned my loss in a healthier way. However, I found myself drawn to Erik's obsession, his desire for my body . . . and the sorrow he felt now that I was dead. I both wanted to make his pain diminish, and increase it to the breaking point as he did for me.

Then . . . Jean began to lie. He _lied_ about anything we had ever done! That . . . that . . . _BASTARD!_ He defiled any sliver of anything we had! In a fit of rage, I rammed into the stone angel, causing it to groan on its stand. Clenching my teeth and ignoring the hard stone bruising my flesh, I threw myself against the statue again. I suddenly felt a release and the statue plummeted to the aisle floor, breaking into thousands of pieces a few feet from my casket.

There was a unanimous scream from the mourners as they shrunk back and I laughed as Jean searched frantically for the source of unrest. I leaped down from the rafters and landed on the back of the pews. I walked slowly, balancing myself with poise and elegance, which contrasted my attire.

"Ugh, Mademoiselle. What gutter did you congeal in?" a stuffy blueblood asked me, her monocle pressed against her eye.

I looked at her, narrowing my eyes and snarling. "I could ask the same question, you pompous old bat." I kicked the hat off her head and continued my trek, realizing that my dress was pushed to the side, leaving my legs completely exposed . . . in a place of worship of all places.

Leaping down I walked up the aisle, looking at Jean and growling, my fists clenched tightly. "Why the sudden silence, _Monsieur de Lamarier?_ You tremble at my presence, yet you do not even know who I am."

"You . . . you look like . . . like a confidant of the Phantom," he mumbled.

"NO!" I roared, grabbing his collar. "I am his bane! I came to pay respects for my confidant and inform you that _YOU_ are a liar!"

"Liar? How so? You weren't around when I courted Nasrin!"

"She wrote to me every week and I assure you if anything you said took place, she would have told me! From what she told me, you were trying to court her while she was still married to a man who shall remain nameless! That is against the law, _MONSIEUR LE COMTE!_"

His voice emerged from the gaping hole that was his mouth, tremulous and soft, yet rapidly gaining volume. "Did she now? Well she isn't here to vouch for that, and the word of a Comte greatly outweighs that of a whore. But the man she was married to abused her, and that . . . man . . . is . . . THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!"

I was taken aback for him calling me a whore, and also for announcing to Paris who it was I had been married to. I gaped and shoved him to the ground before leaping on the coffin, watching for anyone to advance. I found it amusing that they were in a stunned silence. Drawing my rope from behind me, I wrapped it around another stone angel and clambered up it, feeling it shake underneath my weight. As I reached the top, I found that Jean had stood on the coffin and pulled on the rope, attempting to disengage me. I snickered as the angel shuddered; I leaped off of it and pushed the angel down, laughing as more screams erupted. I heard Jean bellow and then there was a crash. I peered down; Jean had moved the casket and the angel had struck nothing but the church floor. Growling, I blended with the shadows and faded away as the church scrambled for its bearings.

Leaping from the flies, I walked out of the church and calmly strode to the front door to watch the rest of the ceremony. I put my hood up and watched as the rest of it unfolded without interruption.

Erik joined the crowd of mourners and I watched as he kissed the petals of a rose before placing them on my coffin, which remained unscathed in my assault.

What was he going to do with the rest of the roses?

As he left the church, I saw his face: broken and shattered, devoid of haughty pride and pretenses. Now he was simply Erik, a man with a broken heart. He met eyes with me and for a moment, I pitied him. He left wordlessly and I followed him, leaping on the back of the carriage he took. I waved farewell to Nadir and snickered as his mouth dropped at the sight of me.

Erik got off at the bank of the Seine and suddenly all became clear. He was paying his own tribute to me . . . his emotions ran deep and true, just like the river that flowed before him. I heard him asking me for forgiveness, to spare him from the torment my loss left him with. I grabbed his shoulders and he spun around, his eyes mad with sorrow. Upon seeing me before him, he motioned to the small patch of budding green next to him.

"Come and sit down," he told me.

_What? We are enemies! What logic has stirred itself into your brain?_

I reluctantly sat and as I spoke with him, I knew that this must end soon. Our hearts separated were nothing compared to what we would be if we were whole. He looked up at me and, in a moment I almost gave into, I wanted so badly to throw myself in his arms, be his once more and assure him that everything would be all right now that we were together again.

"Did you love her?" I asked him. I had to know; if he said yes to me, I would throw down my façade; if he could not admit it to either himself or me, this revenge would continue. I would not be played with again. His retort set me in a right rage.

"What I did at the Masquerade was an act of love."

_Of LOVE? Is this some terribly perverse jest of his?_

I struck him; I struck him twice and my compassion was snuffed out as quickly as a candle's flame in a rainstorm.

Revenge would be easier now; if he could not admit to loving me, yet make all those portraits of me, things were turning murderous. Someone's blood was bound to spill during this whole affair. As I faded into the crowd only one question from my conscience plagued my mind.

_But whose blood, Daevas?_

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**: Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: Well, this chapter was a clue. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: Yes ma'am. She is definitely evil. And GO DELETED SCENES! Anyway, wrath is coming! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: LOL thank you, yes it was strictly revenge. Mwahaha. E-mail me what you think will happen if you don't want to spoil it in a review. I won't be able to tell you if you're right or wrong, but I'm curious. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! You are very amusing when you review. Nasrin isn't schitzophrenic. And the change? Permanent? You'll see; sometimes damage lasts longer than physical appearance. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: Revenge will be prominent, I promise! Here you be, an update of not so much revengeness, but angst! Revenge soon follows! When will Erik realize the truth? Thou shalt see. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: Thank you, welcome to my reviewing family. I know, Jean is an ass. And I promise, you will only hate him more as the story goes on. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jessica**: WOHOO! My 200th (and 218th review) came from you! Ergo, until I post the next chapter, Erik is yours. (the next post might be in a little while . . . I have to completely start from scratch.) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Maidenhair**: LOL, glad I entertain you. Yes, I would like to read the book. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**BringMeLife**: You shall see, lol. And no, basically Daevas is just conjured up of every violent thought I have ever had. O.o;; That's kind of a creepy personification. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: LOL, I know I promised passion. It will come, I promise. Oh, erik under a waterfall? That is a good vision. Yes, occupy yourself with that. I hope it doesn't occupy me as well. (drools) When you start posting your story, e-mail me, and I will read it. (nods) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: (gives tissues) Thanks Sunbeam, I heart you so much! Thanks for the review and here is your update! From the Shadebean!

**DragonheartRAB**: Thank you, Madame Giry was hard. O.O;; I found myself watching the movie over and over to see if I could get her right. As for Jean not being shallow? Maybe not, but he certainly is other things. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Don't worry about not reviewing, I'm just flattered you actually remembered my story after a vacation, lol. OMG I wish I had thought about the note thing. -.-;; That would have been so much cooler. Damn . . . anyway, glad you liked what my uncreative brain came up with, lol. Have fun at your um . . . camp? Intense school? I'll look forward to hearing from you when you come back! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: I know, well, could you possibly believe that your brother could have done something so terrible if you grew up believing him to be kind and gentle? I don't blame him, although it _is_ rather annoying. And Daevas doesn't need to walk into the slums of Paris to be stopped. But as you can see, she can and does handle herself well. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: Thank you for the cookies, they are quite yay. (eats them) (grins) YUM! And thanks for the review, wow, I never expected people to think this story was this good! All you guys are incredible! (glomps everyone) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: (gives ointment for Vi-vi-kins's Daevas acquired injury) Daevas! That was not nice to do to Vi! APOLOGIZE!

Daevas: (grumble)

Shade: SAY IT!

Daevas: o.o Sorry! (cowers)

Shade: Yes, even Nasrin/Daevas knows to cower beneath me! MWHAHAHA! Ahem, Vi you are always protected from Daevas from now on. YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: omg, I never even thought of that! I would never name Jean after anyone. (I actually looked up French boy baby names and picked one at random. O.o;;) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**nelygirl**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! I'm glad you like it so much. I hope it doesn't disappoint later! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: Chah, Daevas went all seductive, but evil seductive. O.o;;; (joins in dancing) Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	22. Born in Blood

**Shade: I know I changed the lyrics slightly, but just for the chapter's purposes. I don't own it and . . . yeah, OK, I'm done! Also, the rating has been bumped up to M for gore now, and for the stuff you guys have been asking for later. Sorry, it had to be!**

"_In dreams_

_She came . . ._" -The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 22: Born in Blood

I stormed up the labyrinth, stumbling and almost tripping into my own traps. I was delirious, exhausted . . . and haunted . . .

I hadn't slept well since Nasrin died; and that was five weeks ago. My eyes were red and my limbs shook. I was an utter and complete wreck. I lurched forward, driven by my unwavering will and my gelatinous legs.

"Madame Giry!" I called, now knocking on her door with a limp fist. I felt as though the slightest loss in balance would send me to the ground and I prayed Madame Giry could assist me.

"I'm coming!" she said back, her tone betraying that this interruption was not welcome at such an hour of the new morning. As soon as she opened the door, the color drained from her face and she stepped aside, just enough so that when I collapsed to my knees in her doorway, she was not hurt. I completed my fall with the utmost clumsiness. My head struck the ground and I prayed for a dreamless slumber to take me, no matter what that would lead to. But my head throbbed and I groaned as she pulled me farther in so she could close the door.

"Erik, good God you look . . ." She hesitated.

"Terrible," I spat, dragging myself to my feet. She sat me down in her chair and pursed her lips at me. I pulled my weighted eyelids open and focused my bloodshot eyes on her.

"What has been happening? Has Daevas been preventing your sleep?" She looked concerned, yet passive in the same moment.

"In a way yes, but not in truth. The Daevas who mysteriously resides in this theater has not yet taken up her oath and sought revenge on me. But my mind works harder at ensuring my unhappiness."

She became pensive. "How so?"

I sighed. "I have had the same nightmare every day for five weeks; five weeks, Madame. I cannot keep myself guarded if I can't distinguish between the five hands in front of my face." I put my palm in front of my face as blurry black gloves tainted my vision.

"What is it you dream, Erik? And what does Daevas have to do with it?" Giry asked, the tone in her voice implying that she somewhat dreaded the answer I would give. However she had asked, and I had come to tell her.

"It always starts out the same, Madame. That's when I know it will be terrible. No matter how I brace myself, it is just as haunting every time."

"What do you dream, Erik?" Giry pressed urgently.

I sighed and began . . .

"_It is just after the Masquerade . . . Nasrin just ran out of the foyer. I can still hear her crying, that long wail of despair echoing over and over again through my mind . . . I watch her run, tearing her amazing outfit. She screams as if cursing the clouds and the heavens and I know I have broken her, shattered her heart into thousands of irreparable pieces. I know I have mutilated our love with my greed._

"_I follow her, trying to catch up to her, and tell her how much I care about her, how much I need her with me . . . how like a fool I acted. But try as I might, she slips farther and farther away from me, her screeches of defeat still tearing from her throat. Her beautiful face is distorted with rage and I long to wipe the tears from her eyes._

"_Then . . . I see it . . . God damn it I see it only moments before it happens. You, by that time, are there, running beside me, trying to prevent the inevitable. Damn why does it have to be inevitable? Why can't Nasrin see the carriage?_

"_The carriage is drawn by two black horses with blood red eyes, foaming mouths, and the right side of their faces are pasty white. They charge seemingly at her, their black hooves thundering against the cobblestones and the driver urges them on. He is cloaked in shadow, but his laughter tells me that Nasrin is his target. Though I cannot see him, I know that laughter; I know it all too well. It is the laughter of the Comte de Lamarier._

"_Then it happens. Oh God what will it take to make that vision stop? The horses rear and whinny as Nasrin's screams of anger turn to screams of fright and she holds up her arms to protect herself. The horses' hooves crash down on her, and I see her fragile shoulder bones snap, the snow-white bone protruding from her skin. Her head cracks on the ground and her skull splits open. She screams a final time before the horses trample the rest of her, shattering her ribs in a sickening crunch, and twisting her legs. The carriage moves a few more feet before stopping. Nasrin's eyes have clouded over, the blue green that I adore fade to a dead gray. Her legs are bent at awkward angles and her snow-white outfit is splattered with an abrasive red that even the rain cannot wash away. Her stomach is caved in from her broken ribs and she lies in an expanding scarlet puddle created by her own lifeblood. I see her spine broken and jagged underneath her, the vertebrae all but shattered._

_The carriage driver gets out, walking fearfully up to the grotesque remains of what was once the most beautiful woman in my view. He takes her gently in his arms, and I vomit slightly as her body bends in half, sickly yielding to more power, her bones no longer holding any resistance. He carries her over to the Seine, which roars behind her. With a casual toss, he throws the body in, wipes his hands on his cloak and goes back to the carriage. I run over to the edge of the river while you scream and I see her sink, a lifeless mangled doll being swept up by the current. Just like that . . . she is gone. And that is on the good nights, Madame . . . the good nights . . ._

"What?" she asked, aghast and pale, "is on the bad nights?"

_"In the bad nights . . . she isn't dead when he throws her in the water. Then she is silent, but moving slightly, resisting death with all of her heart and mind, since her body has given up. Then, when he throws her in, she struggles. I watch her under the water, thrash to break the barrier to air, her body seemingly useless below her. Bubbles erupt from her mouth and she cries out once more before her collapsed lungs finally die. That's when her eyes roll back and, with one final grab to the surface, she mouths my name, as if she can see me standing above her, and then sinks."_

"And then you wake up?" she asked pleadingly, and I saw tears streaking her face. I shook my head.

"No Madame, there is one final blow to this nightmare."

"What now? What can be worse than those visions?"

I breathed out deeply and finished that which had prevented me good night's rest for over a month.

"_After she sinks and the driver thunders off, you pick up the cloth and run back in the direction of the opera. I linger, crying uncontrollably, for what I saw was the complete and utter annihilation of the one whom my feelings have delved deeper than I believed they could go. I walk back and, as I pass the puddle of blood that was my Fire Rose's true final resting place, I stop to stare at my reflection. Then, my feet become rooted in the ground and I cannot move. I don't know why I keep stopping, but each time I stop the same thing happens. _

_The blood begins to ripple and a screech sent from Hell meets my ears. Out of the crimson pool shoots a hand, covered in blood and it grabs frantically at the stone. Once it has a firm grip, another arm emerges, and the creature begins to pull itself up, its limbs shaking spasmodically, as if it were just a newborn demon. All I can see is something so veiled in crimson that features are not even distinguishable. The blood born creature rises to my level and glares at me in the eye. Two dark blue eyes gleam and a wicked grin curves the bloody lips upwards. It's Daevas, born of my Fire Rose's blood. She lashes out a claw-like hand and smears the blood on my mask. Suddenly, the blood expands, covering my entire being with the hot mess and I scream; I want to be free of this blood. I get dizzy, overcome with surges of tempestuous rage, fear, and sorrow, and the last thing I remember hearing is her laughter; her cackle is loud and long, triumphant and demonic. I hear the Devil laugh behind her, and all goes black . . ._"

I looked up at Madame Giry; her hands shook and she wrung the hem of her nightgown, threatening to tear the fabric.

"Madame?" I asked, reaching out for a moment to see if she was all right.

She jerked back, startled at my advance, and shivered. "Erik . . . that dream . . . oh my . . . I can't . . ." She fanned herself and slumped on her bed. I approached her slowly, kneeling at her feet.

"Madame, answer me one question," I commanded.

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"Nasrin . . . she _was_ dead when the driver threw her in the river, right?" She had to be . . . Please, let God have mercy and say that her death, though painful, was quick.

"Yes, Monsieur. She was dead when she was thrown in the river," Giry confirmed, and my heart sighed.

"Thank you, Madame, for listening to that."

"A part of me wishes I hadn't," she mumbled before motioning to the door.

I got up and strode to the door, still exhausted, but needing the comfort of my own bed beneath me. Stumbling down the labyrinth, I heard a strange noise. I heard the sound of a woman crying. It sounded as though it came from beyond one of my statues; the crying was soft, yet extremely saddening. I immediately dismissed it as my fatigue and continued my trek down to my lair.

Once I settled into my swan bed, I tossed and turned for endless moments, my disoriented self unable to capture the essence of sleep. I groaned, not even having the capacity to be irritated at such a thing.

Then, I opened my eyes . . . a vision from God, if he even exists. I saw, or thought I saw, Nasrin, dressed as she always was, sitting on my bedside, watching me. I couldn't distinguish her features, but I knew it was her. She wept and reached out her hand to me; she touched my cheek gently, her soft caress urging me into slumber. I wanted to touch her, I wanted to feel her one last time; and I reached out for her. My hand slipped right through her and a reluctant moan passed through my lips.

"Be still," she said to me. "Be not haunted such anymore." Her voice cracked as she wept. "I wasn't in any pain when it happened Erik. I didn't even know what was going on. Sleep, my angel, you need sleep." She ran her fingers through the tangled mess that was my hair and I found myself slipping into a content slumber, seemingly free of nightmares, blood, and death. My mask was gently removed and a slight brush of her lips met my accursed skin. She eased my head down again and my mottled skin twitched as the velvet pillows met its touch.

Just before sleep took me, I felt the slightest pressure upon my lips, and the smell of roses once again intoxicated me. The touch of her lips was chaste, merely a comfort, but I found myself thinking that this was the most beautiful vision anyone could have.

"Remember Erik," she cooed, her lips brushing mine. "I will only ever love you. Promise me you will always remember and know that, no matter what happens tomorrow; for tomorrow I resume being what has become of myself. Remember that the personifications of love and hate are not that different." She slipped out of my grasp.

"I'll remember . . . I promise . . . my . . . Nasrin," I mumbled incoherently as I fell asleep. My eyes dragged closed as I saw her fade from my sight once again. I wanted to remember the sight of her standing there, the sound of her voice as she told me that she loved me, even after what I had done. But it faded as quickly as my eyes shut.

The next morning, I awoke alone in my bed; there was no sign of Nasrin anywhere and my shoulders sagged in despair. Had she even come at all? Was it just my delirious brain creating an image of her before me? The truth sank in; it must have been for the dead do not kiss the living.

But there, by my bedside . . . my breath fled me. Sitting atop my mask on the table, seemingly flung there in carelessness, was a freshly picked black rose; tears stained the petals.

It felt as though my heart had stopped working . . .

Nasrin?

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**Jen Lennon**: LOL, I know, the angst and revenge are sort of alternating. Don't worry; revenge becomes the creed of the next few chapters. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: XD! You may kick Jean as much as you like, Poozle. And yes, no head for Michael. (vomits slightly) That would NOT be yay. Ew. XD! Poozle you are everything BUT a lump on a pickle . . .wait that leaves worse things . . . ok, you are not a lump on a picke. There we go. MAY I ANNOUNCE THAT NATSUKI WAS THE ONE WHO DESIGNED DAEVAS'S COSTUME! OK, I feel better now. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: No, we don't quite want Erik dead . . . but as for loving Nasrin . . . the actions speak for what the mouth dare not say. (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: I agree w/ you. And I'm very happy you are hooked! That is very good to hear for me; I like to keep my readers in slight suspense. I hope no bad things happen now. O.o;; I updated! See? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! I think Daevas's ears hurt after that. Don't worry, she'll get over it, lol. And I promise, Nasrin shall rock on. Nasrin?

Nasrin: (holding a guitar) (strums it fiercely)

Shade: O.O;; Not like that! (snatches guitar) Good LORD don't do that again!

Nasrin: -.-; FINE!; (storms off)

Shade: Oh! I love AIAOY reprise . . . maniacal laughter is SO hot. They should have SO had that in the movie. Butler would be HOT doing it. O.O (drools) Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: YAY! No Daevas bites! And thank you again for the compliment. (bows) Very flattering coming from one so esteemed on this site. Oh! (calls medic who saves Erik) Don't worry Vi, he fell down the stairs. (nervous laughter) Thanks for the review and here is your update! (runs with you)

**Jessica**: LOL, so how was your time with Erik? You have to tell me about it in your review! LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: Of course you can get a hug from Erik! Erik!

Erik: All right, I know the drill by now. (hugs tightly)

Shade: (claps) YAY! Wow, you used your comp time on vacation to read this? I am so flattered. (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Glad you like Daevas; she is evil, but yay. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: Good! Hate Jean with all your soul! YES! She is cool in her insane state, I do agree. (nods) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: XD! You want Erik to Punjab Jean? A righteous desire, I must say. Cookies are yay too! (eats some) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: XD! Good! Death to the Count! The ring video? OMG! LMAO! That'd be hilarious; I'd bet Jean would pee himself and scream like a little girl! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: (eats taffy) Thank you! Those were yummy. (gives tissues) Thank you so much! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: Yes! Expect more Jean bashing in the future, as it is so much fun to do! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! You greatly amuse me my friend. I know you love them, and they know that too. (pats) I heart you Sunbeam! Thanks for the review and here is your update! –Shadebean

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Thanks! Erik is stubborn, yes; and though he said "an act of love" it was at something done of spite, so, even if he does love her, Daevas doesn't believe him. XD! Yes, Jean is an idiot. And you're not supposed to like him, so YAY! As for the blood to be spilled . . . who said it was Erik's? I never specify whose blood, but you'll find out. Anyway, I mentioned that my posting schedule will be quite erratic. I don't know how many chapters will be posted in 4 weeks; so I guess it'll be a surprise, huh? Have fun! Thanks for your review and here is your update!


	23. Failed Seduction

"_Our games of make believe_

_Are at an end . . . _" –The Point of No Return

Chapter 23: Failed Seduction

I had shed my guise for once. I had allowed myself to give in to a moment of compassion and visit Erik as who I was before. His dream . . . it had been too graphic for even myself to bear . . . though the intense symbolism in it was startling. I hadn't known dreams could delve that deeply into the sub conscience so subtly.

_It was imperative that I soothe him . . . just this once . . . for no one . . . not even him . . . especially not him . . . should have to deal with that type of pain . . ._

_Love wins over the beast of hate,_ my conscience cajoled tauntingly. _Love cannot be slain by hate! For then love intensifies!_

I hated the fact that blind hate always had input from the sub conscience, no matter how dark it was. It was imperative that I shed this guise finally and manifest myself to him.

Enough . . .

Enough pain had been experienced on both sides . . .

Though the words never passed his lips, his artwork had spoken of his love more than any simple phrase could convey. My face was everywhere; and when I appeared to him, he just wanted to touch me. He wasn't looking for me to roll on my back so that he could satisfy himself in me; he just wanted to touch my face . . . such simple chastity was not characteristic of lust.

Enough . . .

I strode out of my lair, intent on this finally coming to an end. Dodging his traps, I reached the portcullis without disturbance.

"Erik, we need to talk!" No answer. I knocked on the iron bars. "Erik!"

He wasn't in his lair . . . then where was he? I fell silent. Christine . . . Could I hope to match his feelings for her now?

_You must try . . . else how will you live with yourself?_

My conscience spoke true. I redirected myself to the mirror, my heart pounding. How would I say this? Could I possibly manage to just simply blurt it out to him? Tell him that not only I am Nasrin . . . but that I have been aware of his sufferings and have let it continue thus far?

_Do you think he could forgive you after that?_

"I'll make him . . . he knows I love him. I have told him so; likewise his artwork has spoken to me of his love. It is only right that we are together." My reasoning failed to calm me as I walked slowly up the labyrinth. I could swear my heat beat resonated through the chamber and would betray my position.

Then I heard him . . . speaking in a venomous whisper to another. I felt as though I was in danger and my body began to shake. But I wanted to hear . . . what was going on? I walked closer to the mirror and saw Erik conversing angrily with Jean who was on his feet and standing just beyond the glass, growling.

"I declare we make a truce for now," Jean said to him. "It is apparent that Daevas wants to destroy both of us. I propose that we take her down. Then I can kill you."

Erik let out a laugh; it was a harsh, evil sound. "I don't make truces with little boys possessing toy guns, Monsieur le Comte. I am very able to take care of Daevas myself. I don't need your assistance; I don't believe you could harm a hair on her head anyway. She's a feisty little spitfire."

_They were plotting to kill me?_

I took a step back, wanting to be silent, but I stepped in a puddle of water and my shoes splashed the water everywhere. I froze and Erik's head shot up, his eyes glowing in the darkness. My blood began to roar.

"Hold on a moment, Monsieur le Comte. Perhaps I shall see what you are capable of. Give me but a moment." He stormed in my direction and my first instinct was to flee; but I fought against it and stood my ground, clenching my fists.

He grabbed me around the arm and his icy grip threw me into a thrashing fit. My arms struck at his face, but he moved aside and threw me out of the mirror, sending me crashing on the floor of Christine's dressing room. I groaned and stood up.

"Do what you like with her Comte; I will watch from here. This should provide me with some entertainment, watching the demon and the fop battle for survival." He laughed and I ran at the mirror, grabbing at the mechanism to open it and tell him.

"It's locked, Daevas. You must fight." His tone was twisted with bloody amusement. "If you haunt my dreams, I will haunt you whilst you are awake."

"Erik!" I cried. "You don't understand. I'm really-"

Jean interrupted me by covering my mouth with his hand. I thrashed madly in his grasp and my hand glanced across his face. He grunted and threw me on the ground.; my head struck the chair in front of the vanity. Leaping up, I punched him in the face and moved to storm out the door. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it was locked. Whipping around at Jean, I found him smiling ruthlessly at me, the key clenched between his teeth.

"If you want to leave, get the key." He walked up to me slowly.

I smiled and diminished the space between us, making an effort to make my hips sway as I moved.

"All right, Jean. I'll get the key from you. But please, don't make this end too quickly." I grabbed his shirt and pushed him on the bed behind him. It was amusing to see him look so shocked. His eyes bulged and he didn't know whether to strike me or pull me closer. I growled and straddled him, lowering my face to his neck and planting sucking kisses on his flesh. I fought the urge to vomit as his sweaty skin made my taste buds shrivel.

However, he groaned and his hands found my legs. He fondled the clasps to my tights and pushed me on my back, looking triumphant. What an imbecile. He lowered his head and kissed my chest. I shot a look at the mirror, which I found had slid aside slightly, allowing me to see Erik's look of utter revulsion.

I laughed at the look on his face and threw my head back. I could feel the key brushing tantalizingly against my skin as he kissed me. He looked down at me and moved to cast aside the mask on my face. In a flash, my leg shot up, catching him between the legs and he froze, his face a look of shocked horror. He opened his mouth to take in needed gulps of hair as he clutched his groin. The key slipped from between his lips and landed on my chest.

Shoving him off of me, I struck him in the side of the head and laughed as he fell, wheezing and moaning. As I unlocked the door, I glared at Erik.

"You might want to deal with yourself as well, Erik. I could handle that just as I did Jean's." I shot a look down at his pants, raised my eyebrows as the shadows outlined a very distinct shape and stormed out of the room.

If he wanted to kill me . . . he wouldn't listen to any plea I set out to say. He was bent on revenge; time to strike back. As I opened one of the other trapdoors in the opera house, I walked to the labyrinth, guardedly keeping my hand at the level of my eyes.

Once I stumbled upon one of his traps, I would rearrange it, changing it to set off something different at a different time. If he was going to send Jean and his men after me as well as hunt me down himself, self-defense was in order.

I would not kill him . . . he must know that I am who I am. I had to defend myself . . . for if he spilled my blood, he would never know. It was imperative that I stop him from this.

"What do you think you're doing?" came Erik's dark voice.

I turned around slowly. "Erik . . . listen to me . . ."

He stormed up to me and grabbed my wrist, throwing me into the wall. "Nothing you can say will hold any weight with me. I knew Jean wouldn't prove as much of a nemesis as I. It was, after all, me whom you wanted to harm. Well, I am here before you unarmed. Go ahead." He pushed his face against mine menacingly.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to fight . . . Enough."

He threw me down on the ground and pressed his foot on my corset, ensuring my stillness.

"Then why are you resetting my traps, you lying heathen!" His foot applied more pressure to my stomach. I wheezed as the breath was pressed out of me.

"For . . . self-defense, Erik. You . . ." I coughed, feeling my breath become shallower until colored specks blotted my vision.

"I what?" He yanked me up to him, his scorching breath making my skin sticky.

"You are plotting to kill me. I don't . . . want you to, before you know the truth." I fought against his grip and grimaced.

"And what truth is that, demon?" He moved his grip from my shoulder to my neck, squeezing the breath out of me.

"I . . . I . . ." I couldn't speak, and already my world seemed to be overtaken by black.

"Yes?" he tested.

I fought from his grip and gasped. In a moment, unable to work my vocal chords, I pressed my lips against his, forgoing the guise of Daevas and allowing Nasrin to show him love. I pulled on the hem of his coat, feeling as though I would collapse at any given moment. Those lips . . . I had been without them for months and only now did I realize how much I missed the feel of them. My body began to shake and I thought I heard a roaring in my ears, but I would not release him.

All of a sudden, Erik's lips closed completely, sealing me off from him and he brutally shoved me away. His eyes were far angrier than I had ever seen them. The back of his hand flew across my face, almost disengaging my mask from my face. With a jolt he threw me to the ground, a hiss of rage following my cry of pain as my head struck the ground.

"You filthy little whore! Touch me again and I'll hang you!" He stormed off, his cloak caressing my legs before falling against the floor once again.

"It's me . . . Nasrin . . . oh my love can't you see?" Against my better instincts I began to cry, my head falling against the stone as rats darted around me. My breath was slowly returning and I stood on shaky feet, vomiting slightly as my deep breaths triggered a reaction in my gut. I staggered to my lair and lay, curled in my bed, coughing and weeping at the same time.

He wouldn't listen to me now . . . I had damaged him enough without doing a thing. I don't even think he would believe me if I took off my wig before him. Sleep crept on me, its spidery fingers wrapping around my shaking frame, soothing my spasms.

_Sleep little demon, you tried . . ._ my conscience assured me. _You will try again in the morning._

I let out a chocked sob, two tears making their way over the mask and cascading down its smooth surface. "_Erik, I love you . . ._"

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! 25! Wow!**

**GerrysISUChick04**: Eek! Don't Punjab me! I updated, see? And Jean haters club? I'm game! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ali**: Yeah, I know. Well, I guess you say his dreams have convinced him otherwise, ya know? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**: Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: Now as much as I believe fairy-tale endings are impossible . . . good ones might come out and surprise you when you least expect them to. But twists, you must realize by now, are my game! And yes, the gore is why I bumped up the rating. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jessica**: Completely understood, lol. Erik's wits jump in soon enough. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Sincerely Nessa**: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! Yes, Jean is a freaking idiot. You just want to slap him. Although I don't quite have a good reason why Nadir would give Nasrin to Erik if it was against her culture, I tried (maybe I didn't do a good enough job) in saying that Nasrin defies her culture and even her religion. She is a belly dancer, so her body being shown is somewhat required, but I completely understand what you're saying. I guess Nadir gave Nasrin to Jean because Erik doesn't have a religion. (shrugs) I dunno. Anyway, glad you like the story even with my faux pas! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: (gives tissues) Of course Erik can hug you! ERIK!

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: (celebrates) I hope that helps! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: LOL! YES! A SUBLIME IDEA! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: OH! If I interfered with your sleep, forgive me (bows) Madame Giry, by telling Erik of Nasrin/ Daevas, would be putting herself in grave danger, because then she'd admit to lying to him. So she will be tortured a little bit, but she won't tell. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Crimson Rose to Ebony**: Hello, and welcome to my reviewing family! Thank you so much! Always nice to hear someone telling me that, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: (hides) A great idea! MWAHAHA! Anyway, I updated! YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL, I know! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Artemis12's phantom**: Thanks! Don Juan will be coming soon. But stuff is in between. Yes, Nasrin actually came. The reason his hand went "through her" is because earlier he said he couldn't distinguish the five hands in front of his face. So he really completely missed her, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse X Bride**: OOOH Are you seeing it in NY? If you are, then you see Hugh Panaro! (I think) If you do, lemme know in a review or something! XD! I actually saw it while writing this and I actually found myself looking for Nasrin during the Masquerade. Then I stopped and went, "What am I doing?" It was amusing. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! Yes, Erik needed a hug after that chapter. There will be more of the fop . . . unfortunately . . . I guarantee you will hate him more than Raoul by the end. (nods) I saw the chapter! EVERYONE GO READ MADEMOISELLE JUSTICIA'S STORY CUZ IT ROCKS! YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**phantominhell**: HELLO! Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I've had dreams that do that to me, so it was like visiting old times. (though my dreams are never that intense) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Penmora Zenith**: Hellow, welcome to my reviewing family. Yes, that scene and one other scene are the only slightly acrobatic scenes for Nasrin/ Daevas. And the church one was way more intense. (nods) Overdoing it is not what I aimed for, ergo I'll only do it once or twice. Well, thank you very much. (bows) I'm glad the story excites you so, lol. (gives tissues) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: (gives tissues) I know, Erik's dream was so dark, it freaked me out writing it. O.O;; Nasrin's compassion will almost always win out over her rage. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: LOL, I know. Madame Giry gets stuck in the middle of everything. And true, Nadir could figure out Daevas's identity in a snap . . . too bad he hasn't seen her up close and personal, LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: I don't think I ever asked you, but what does your name mean? Anyway, thank you! Nasrin is trying, poor thing, to tell him. And she does believe he loves her now. OH! I get it now. Well, the blood being spilt . . . you hypothesize well. (nods) But, the person spilling the blood is not who you might think. Have fun at camp! Hope you like the story as much when you return as when you left! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysJackie**: I know! (pats) (gives tissues) The torture is unbearable. As you can see in this chapter, the rage that birthed Daevas is dying, so don't worry. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! Yes, Sunbeam, suspense, LOL! From Shadebean. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: HI POOZLE! XD! The ghost lives on! Thankee very much! And huggle Erik as you need, your Erik mind you, for my Erik would not be spared enough to live his life, LOL. Ew . . . (vomits) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Victorian Dream**: Sorry, but the rating had to be changed. There was absolutely no way in avoiding it. Anyway, be prepared for a little more angst, than revenge, then anger, then . . . . who knows? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: LOL, she did . . . for a brief moment. Thank you so much. (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	24. The War Between Obsession and Love

**Shade: Hey guys! Thank you all SO much for sticking with this story thus far. I'm going down the shore on Friday, so I don't know if I'll be able to post until next Sunday. If I can, I will, but just know that I'm not ignoring the story. The poem I use in this chapter is not mine; it is copyright to yagirl-123. Except I slightly tweaked it for Nasrin's writing. If you want to see the original yayness of the poem, see the review! I still don't own the poem in any way. Enjoy!**

"_It's in your soul_

_That the true distortion lies . . ._" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 24: The War Between Obsession and Love

"Today, today is the day I will tell him. I will make him listen to me," I reassured myself as I walked out of my lair, determined for the second time to convince Erik of my identity. I needed him; as soon as I tasted his lips the other day I knew that I could never be away from his embrace again.

"Erik!" I reached his lair and froze, gasping and shaking as my heart broke.

He looked up at me, freezing from his work. In his hands were at least twelve of his paintings of me, crumpled and creased. The rest of his tribute lay in a smoldering fire a few feet away.

"Why . . . why are you doing that?" I asked with bated breath, a lump in my throat ready to erupt in a wave of tears. I noticed that my sculpture was all that showed that I had ever been a holder of his heart.

He unceremoniously tossed more of the paintings in the fire, ignoring my scream of agony. "I don't want to remember your friend's face any longer. I love Christine now, for it is hard to love a dead woman." I watched in shocked horror as the edges of my face curled up in the licking flames.

"You don't love Nas- . . . me anymore?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes and trudged over to me, his arms hanging by his side, thus giving him the look of an irate beast.

"What . . . did . . . you . . . say?" he snarled.

"Erik." I gulped and reached through the iron bars for him. "It's me . . . It's Nasrin. Haven't you realized by now?"

He recoiled from my hand. "You deceive me. You almost said her name . . . let me guess." He smiled at me through the bars, his skeptical eyes dancing with laughter. "You fell in love with me while trying to take revenge on me for Nasrin. Now, in order to be with me, you are trying to convince me that you are her. That is quite flattering, but there is only room in my heart for one fiery Persian girl, and there only ever will be."

"You imbecile!" I screeched. "It's me! It's your forsaken bride, Nasrin! By Allah are you a dense man!"

"You expect me to trust the word of a despicable harem? You must be mad." He moved to stalk away from the portcullis.

"Ask me something about myself. Something you know separates me from the other Persian girls." I felt my dignity disintegrate as I begged, but the truth was far more important.

"Nasrin's eyes are blue-green, Daevas. Why are yours dark blue?" He whirled around to face me and cocked his head. "More to the point, why do you and Nasrin have different colored eyes than every other Persian I have seen?"

"My grandfather was not of Persia; he was from somewhere in Europe, who visited the dancers. My grandmother was one of them. He paid for my grandmother for a night and he raped her. My baba is the product of that one act of pain. Then, he and my mother birthed me, Nasrin Khanum, and all my brothers. I was the only one who inherited my grandfather's eyes. See, they are blue green." I pushed my face closer to the iron that separated us.

Erik moved closer and looked into my eyes. "I see dark blue, Mademoiselle harem."

"Erik, by Allah! It's me!"

"I don't have time for desperate imposters. Don Juan is being rehearsed and I have the love of my life to watch over." He raised the portcullis and walked past me. "If you'll excuse me of course, 'Nasrin.'" He shook his head and laughed as he stalked down the labyrinth.

Once he was gone, rage erupted in my gut and I clenched my fists. I had _told_ him! I had bared my true self to him and he had scoffed at me! How _dare_ he! If he ignored my please, my cries, it was essential that I silence that noise which blocks his ears. In short, I would kill Christine.

I padded behind him from the fifth cellar up to the highest rafters overlooking the stage. I saw him laugh at Piangi and I knew that Erik planned to take his place the next night.

As he peered precariously over the rafters, I leaped on his back, sending him flying over the side of the bridge, roaring in both surprise and anger. I gripped fast to his body and laughed in his ear. I laughed in a voice that mocked the devil. We both plummeted down to the stage.

The ballerinas screamed and ran out of formation and there was a unanimous gasp from below. I saw Madame Giry clap her hand to her mouth and scream while Christine froze in place, eyes wide with terror. Just before Erik struck the stage, I casually tossed a Punjab lasso around a protruding pole above us. The lasso tightened in an instant, keeping both of us suspended above the stage, mere feet from certain demise.

Erik looked up, realizing my grip on him had both caused his fall, and saved him from death. He swung reluctantly with his hand clutched in mine; I felt so powerful, holding his life in my hands.

I smiled. "You should have believed me, my love." I yanked my hand from his grasp, sending him tumbling down to the stage, landing in an indignant growl. He peered up at me as I released the rope and landed on the stage, standing up soon after and smiling.

"Daevas," he spat, catching his breath and glancing warily at the company around who trembled in his presence.

"Who else? Obviously you don't see me as your old bride," I said, stalking around him slowly, glaring at him with defiance. I would make him see. I had to . . . my Erik . . . your density will be the death of you if you keep this up.

_Or rather . . . Christine's . . ._

_No, _I assured myself. _I would have tried to kill her anyway . . ._

"And what do you plan on doing, now that you have me in the open?" he asked, growling.

_Time to play the part of murderer . . . but that won't pose a difficulty._

"I haven't decided yet," I murmured, lying as I walked more circles around him. I sniggered. "Perhaps I should start by taking off this mask. Yes, you did that to Nasrin, didn't you? You destroyed her guise the night she was meant to be married." I reached for his white mask, standing behind him. My fingers danced across its white surface tauntingly.

"No!" he roared, grabbing my hands and throwing me around to his front, holding me up so my face was level with his. I growled and spat in his face. He dropped me in order to wipe the sticky saliva from his face and mask.

I backed away from him slowly, examining his reaction. The expression of disgusted horror on his face was quite amusing. Some crew members moved to approach him with bludgeons and maces, but I held up my hand, halting them in their tracks. Power was a dangerous thing. Erik saw them out of the corner of his eye and snarled.

"Why don't you let them do it? Why don't you allow them to kill me now?"

"I don't do anyone favors," I spat. "Not to mention the fact that I'm not finished with you."

"Well, I'm finished with you!" Erik bellowed, unsheathing a small knife from his belt, undoubtedly used to sever rope, and threw it at my head, twisted with mad rage.

I turned to the side just before the blade would have buried itself in my face. The knife grazed my jaw, slicing open a shallow gash as I fell clumsily to the ground. Standing up, I grabbed the knife from the wooden pole in which it was buried and growled at Erik.

"Now now, that wasn't very nice," I cooed. This was my chance; I held the weapon of demise in my hand. I had never seen a blade so beautiful.

I whipped to face Christine and threw the knife in the same fashion at her. At the last moment, that angelic wench moved to safety. The knife buried itself in the wooden pole a millimeter from her head, only severing a lock of her fair, golden hair. She quivered in fear, her mouth hanging open.

Erik looked over at me, his jaw slacked in vengeful awe.

I smiled evilly at Erik and pouted, laughing slightly. "Forgive me, I seem to have missed."

Erik's look became twisted with rage. "You could have killed her! Daevas, I'll destroy you!"

"You won't," I purred, holding up my finger to silence him. "Just as I won't kill you. Now, Monsieur le Phantom, I am finished with you." I ran past him and threw a red powder down on the ground. In an explosion of a red inferno, I disappeared through the trapdoor, leaving Erik to the crew members.

I fled through the labyrinth and into my lair, throwing myself on my bed, wondering why my triumph was empty, besides the undeniable fact that Christine still breathed.

_Why couldn't he make it easy on himself and just accept the truth?_

My mind beat against my actions, but I couldn't stop. Looking up at the grate, I lost myself in a fantasy of singing the part of Aminta, tone deaf as I was, with Erik as Don Juan. I could feel his large arms wrapped lovingly around me, his hot breath in my ear, his hands moving daringly up my longing body. I smiled warmly.

"_Erik, I love you,_" I sang softly, weeping into the silk pillows and falling into a restless slumber, lightened with visions of Erik's beautiful face.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

How dare she . . . how dare that Persian _whore_ make to impersonate Nasrin.

There were some uncanny similarities between their personalities and their body type. But something about Daevas . . . that inescapable aura of evil never left.

Still . . . the similarities between them were extremely strong. Their temper, their body shape, their haughty comments . . . their hatred towards Christine.

After the whole incident above with Don Juan, I had grabbed the rope she had used to suspend me and escaped narrowly, most of the ballet rats screaming.

I had been humiliated . . .

I angrily returned to my work of desecrating Nasrin's shrine. I wanted to keep them up forever, but allowing them to exist only made it harder for me to move on . . . I would always want Nasrin beside me, no matter how old I became. But wanting her is useless if she can never come back to me. If dreams were the closest thing to her I could get . . . I would rather have Christine. As true as those words were, they hurt. Between Christine and Nasrin, I cared for them both. I never expected myself to become hopelessly torn between two completely different, yet equally incredible woman.

_You also never expected to kill one of them . . ._

I grabbed for the last of Nasrin's pictures and moved to the fire. A small piece of paper fell to the ground from the binding of the songbook she made for me months ago. I hesitated and bent down to pick it up, never before seeing the yellowed parchment. Unfolding it, I was met with several lines of faded black script, the ink slightly blotched with either tears or water. I hoped it was the latter. Bracing myself, I read the letter.

"Perhaps Erik,

A bride could never love a monster,

And a man could never love a beast.

But what happens when the monster inside

Falls for the beast inside of the bride.

Isn't it possible for a monster to love a beast?

And me, your bride, to love you, a man?" Nasrin

_Yes . . . oh by God yes . . . you were right Nasrin . . . so right . . ._

I collapsed in my chair, unable to bring myself to cast the writing into the fire. I read it over and over again until the words blended together to form a black blob. I placed the rest of her portraits aside, thankful I saved my favorites for last to destroy. I couldn't destroy them now . . . not when this newfound attachment bloomed within me.

I will never be over her . . . I will never fill the hole in my heart she left me with . . .

_No you won't . . . because you loved her, and you destroyed her . . ._

I realized hopelessly at that moment, that even if I wooed Christine into loving me, I would be alone . . .

xXxXx

**Daevas's POV**:

The next morning I awoke reluctantly. Tonight was Don Juan. Should I allow the performance to go without my intervention? Word of mouth was that Raoul had ensured the presence of at least twenty police officers to be positioned around the theater, ready for the command to kill. Kill Erik. My mind was made up; I would go to protect him. If the police officers came to harm him, I would ensure his safety.

_Perhaps the way to win love is show love . . ._

I growled and fell back against my pillow, staring once more up at the grate. There were no rehearsals going on and only terrible silence loomed. I sighed, running my fingers through my mandarin orange wig. I loved the feeling of Erik's fingers running, unafraid, over my distortion as if it meant nothing at all. I ached for him; Allah damn the heart you gave to me! I can't escape from it!

Suddenly, I heard his voice trill through the labyrinth, his strong, deep, sensual voice weaving its tune around me, constricting and enrapturing me.

"_I realize I'm truly a monster._

_In darkness I'm fated to hide._

_What priceless jewel have I shattered_

_In the name of pride?_

_Dark Aphrodite_

_Come back to me_

_With wings of lustrous silver._

_Come to my arms, my_

_Night born goddess_

_Allow us one more embrace._"

I shifted in my bed, my heart tearing at the seams at his pitiful display of loneliness. I peered up the grate, searching for him above. But he was not there. Softly, I sang out, my horrific voice echoing miserably.

"_In sleep I'll comfort you_

_In dreams I'll come._

_For in your fantasies_

_We've just begun._

_In every aria, and every sigh,_

_I'm here, Nasrin the Fire Rose with you, in flesh, not mind._"

Surprisingly, he didn't inquire as to why my voice reached his ears. Instead, he roared loudly and a wail of despair rose from his rage. "Damn it, leave me alone! I hear you enough in my mind! Please, don't make me hear your voice when I'm awake! Nasrin, my God, stop!" His rage softened into angst and I heard him strike the wall with a balled fist. "Enough!"

"I've told you, my love. I am not dead!"

"Nas . . . Nasrin?" he stammered, awestruck.

I remained quiet for a moment, unsure of how to make it clearer. It became apparent that his dream had a dire effect on his ability to distinguish fantasy and reality.

"Nasrin!" he cried out, his voice desperate with longing. I was about to speak up when his voice cut in. "What am I doing? I'm calling the name of a dead girl in hopes that she will return. What a sad state I have been reduced to." I heard him sigh and chose to remain quiet; my words of devotion died on my tongue. I heard a haunting overture begin to play above and craned my neck quizzically.

"Damn it! This is the opening night of Don Juan! Christine, my love, I'm coming for you!" His footsteps grew fainter as he sprinted towards the stage.

I paled and grabbed a large coil of rope. I had many police officers to take care of before Erik intervened.

It is time to see the fruits of Erik's labor. Something tells me this will be a memorable night for all who have come for this, the Phantom's opera.

I fled from my lair and dodged my traps as my heart hammered in my breast. I hurried as silent as a shadow through backstage.

I saw a police officer stationed behind the curtain, his rifle at the ready. I hastily tied a Punjab lasso, making sure no one's eyes lay on me. I was thankful my outfit was the same colors as the backdrops of the play. As he shifted weight from his left foot I lowered myself down on a rope prop.

My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, slowly . . . don't rush it. He moved his head to the side and I slung the noose around his head, yanking him airborne in a moment. I tied him to another rope, leaving him dangling above the ground, gasping for air, a sound lost in the booming chords of the overture.

Another police officer stood by the catwalk, his rifle aimed expertly on the stage. He had a clear shot of anyone on stage . . . and I would not have him hurt Erik. I left the first police officer twitching below me and raced past some members of the cast who, upon seeing my rope, screamed and fled. The police officer saw me running towards him . . . damn it to Hell and back.

He raised his rifle to me, aiming to shoot. I reached him and, before he could pull the trigger, wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled back, tightening the rope until he collapsed beneath me, his face flushed livid. Backing away from him, I saw the rest of the officers were stationed around the audience.

_How are you going to get them?_

I'm going to have to go to the audience . . . and what? I had to get out there regardless.

Sprinting around backstage, I stopped in the doorway of the theater. Hundreds of beating fans met my eyes as the packed seats filled the Opera Populaire. I saw eighteen police officers stationed throughout the seats, tiers, and the doorways. To get them all would be impossible. My only hope was to remain here and run to save Erik, should he require it.

Just then, an usher tapped my on the shoulder. Thinking it was a policemen, I whipped around, my rope taut and at the ready. I growled and narrowed my eyes.

"Mademoiselle, if you do not have a ticket or seat, please leave." He motioned to the door.

_Oh no, I was not going to be denied now. I was staying here! Death to the one who says otherwise!_

"I will stay here. Leave me be, or face death. You wouldn't deny the Phantom of the Opera his seat, so the least you can do for his bane is allow her to watch."

Apparently, the usher wasn't informed as to my murder attempt on Christine earlier, for he suddenly became very servile.

"Oh, my apologies, Lady Daevas," the usher stammered, bowing his head slightly. "Please, do you want me to find you a seat?"

"No, just leave me be," I hissed, turning from him, ensuring my expression told him not to inquire further.

The usher left wordlessly, and I knew I would have to move my position or I was in danger of being captured.

_But in the meantime . . . _

I heard the chorus reach a frightening volume as the overture melded into the first act. That is when I realized that I had passed the last point that would have ensured my safety. By coming here tonight, I knew I had sealed my own fate. I knew it as soon as I saw the police officers looking at me, moving to grab at their rifles.

_Run . . ._

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**Jen Lennon**: Thank you! I know, you just want to push them together and say: "LOVE EACH OTHER!" The climax must occur first unfortunately . . . stupid dramatic plot diagram. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**phantominhell**: (catches candy and cookies) Yum! Thanks! Oh, Jean ass kicking is great! (high fives) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: I know! It's heartbreaking isn't it? Well, at least Jean got kicked in the nuts! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: A mermaid, eh? Sweet! Thank you very very much! (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! I know! Go Nasrin! I'm sure if Nasrin had removed her mask, he would have seen the 'I'm-gonna-get-you-with-my-looks' look and identified. You know what? Masks suck. And as for fluff? You shall see. I like fluff, but only when it's appropriate; you'll know what I mean later. XD! Fops squealing are very yay! I promise you, Jean will squeal again! Only this time . . . you will hate him MUCH more! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: XD! That was an EXTREMELY enjoyable review. I know, the passion will come. I don't break my promises. Hang tight. XD! Count de small dick . . . LMAO! You finished HP6 too? (sniffle) Need I do more concerning that book? Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: O.o;; Please don't Punjab me! That would not be yay! (not to mention you would never know the ending of the story, which would hurt you more than me.) MWAHA! And no, I won't make Erik stupid. I promise. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**: LOL, I know. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: YAY! You got an account! When you post your story, lemme know! LOL, those are awesome ideas. Unfortunately, I cannot use them. As you probably have noticed, I have a tendency to torture my characters . . . same goes for Nasrin. Sorry Nasrin! So you'll see what in the end gives it away. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: LOL, it's fine. I know who you are, poozle. XD! Yes, tis a secret indeed. Thanks muchly! (glomp) Yes, Nasrin's torture is pretty bad. And you know where it goes . . . but don't tell! SH! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: XD! Hello! What a lovely surprise! I agree, Nasrin was being quite ignorant when she said taking her wig wouldn't do a thing. I wish she did. You shall see though! That's a cool name, regardless of the meaning, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: XD! Typical male indeed, well, minus the deformity . . . but that . . . I strangely like that. OK, I'll stop blathering about that. And GOOD! You don't like Jean! YAY! Oh, please, flame him as much as you like! I'm glad she kicked him too. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Artemis 12's Phantom**: LOL, Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! Yes, please, take Erik and spank him. Good LORD he was an idiot. Thanks for the review and here is your update! From Shadebean!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: You shall see, I promise! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: XD! (dances as well b/c she hates Jean) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: NO! (revives) I didn't want the hug to kill you! But I'm glad it made you happy! LOL! You're welcome. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**ali**: I know, I know. Don't fear . . . I'll pull it together. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: LOL, good. I know. The last chapter didn't turn out quite like I wanted it to. Sorry it was hard to follow. I hope this chapter was better! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**yagirl-123**: I loved the poem! Thank you SO much! I tweaked it slightly, I really hope you don't mind. But as soon as I read it, I knew I had to have it in there, whether you asked me or not. Thank you! (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	25. Past All Thought of Right or Wrong

**Shade: Well, I tried to update on Friday, but my comp was not being yay. However, I have returned. Now, upon reading this chapter, you will understand why I insisted on this being posted when I got back. Enjoy!**

**And on a side note, Kitariki (AKA Natsuki) was my 300th reviewer! So Natsuki, you get Erik until the next update! YAY! (celebration ensues)**

"_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold . . ._

_The bridge is crossed_

_So stand and watch it burn . . ._" –The Point of No Return

Chapter 25: Past All Thought of Right or Wrong

I froze in fear. My legs turned to marble statues and I couldn't run. I knew the guns were pointed at me, readying to fire. I knew that if they shot me, I would certainly die on the spot. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to flee.

_Are you going down this easily, Nasrin?_

_No, Erik will know who I am first, even if I die in the process._

_Be careful what you wish for . . ._

But just as I moved to run, Madame Giry tapped a policeman on the shoulder, motioned to me, and shook her head. Just like that, I was no longer a target, and I was free from their scrutinizing gaze. Now I could have fled to safety. However, I would not abandon my post. I would stay, and I would observe how Erik would attempt to make the angel stray from her lover.

_Just as I attempted to do when I was beside him . . ._

Christine's voice was the one thing able to erase my memory from Erik's head. And that was what he sought after. I lowered my head in shame and felt a reluctant tear trickle down my face as Piangi went behind the curtain, waiting for Aminta. An echo of Christine's voice held the audience spellbound and I clenched my fists, my teeth gritted in restrained spite. How I loathed myself for being jealous of her.

As Piangi's next part came around, I noticed that his voice was different, far more melodic and the Italian accent almost gone. Christine noticed it too, for her eyes darted and she seemed to be immediately uneasy.

My breath caught in my throat and I began to move trance-like towards the stage, my eyes wide. My arms fell limply at my side and the rope slipping between my fingers. The police officers were forgotten and the only thing that mattered to me was the incredible song of an angel . . . _my_ angel.

Erik and Christine began to sing, and the audience gradually began to notice as I walked down the aisle towards them. I could see numerous audience members turn to me, undoubtedly wondering if I happened to be a character in the production.

"Take your seat Mademoiselle," an usher murmured, catching up with me by the orchestra seats.

"I thought I told you to leave me be," I answered in a reverie, my eyes staying locked on Erik and how striking he looked as Don Juan.

"Yes, but that was when you wanted to stay in the back. Now you are blocking the views of some of our _paying_ customers." His voice was soft, yet hurried.

"You would do best to leave me alone," I muttered, readying my body for a conflict, should he remain insolent.

"Come with me." The usher grabbed my arm. That was it. I whipped around, jolted from my trance and utterly enraged. I gripped fast to his neck and pushed him over, sitting on his stomach and squeezing his neck, my thumbs against his windpipe. He let out a frantic gasp of panic and some people rose from their seats to attempt to save the usher's life. My work was cut short by several pairs of hands, which dragged me from him.

However, when they went to examine the poor man, they found him blue in the face with my fingerprints darkened on his skin. I had strangled the life out of him. His body lay limp on the floor, facing the ceiling with a look of shocked horror on his face.

In an attempt to draw attention back to themselves, Christine and Erik's voices rose in volume, and some people turned back to the opera as a few more ushers came to carry the body away. I looked up at them, waiting for a tension to burst and chaos to ensue.

"_The bridge is crossed _

_So stand and watch it burn._

_We've passed the point of no return . . ."_

I focused my attention on them again, eyes wide at the amount of passion in their melody. I moved closer to the stage, stopping just short of the orchestra and gaping up at them. How I yearned to take the place of Christine . . . if only Erik wasn't so insolent. At the peak of my desire, I cast aside my mask and walked on the stage, following Erik's path up to the catwalk just as he began to sing again.

"_Say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime . . ._

_Lead me, save me_

_From my solitude . . ._"

I heard the gunmen ready their rifles, but I didn't cease. I would reach him; that was all I wanted. I was halfway up the stairs and I looked up at Erik, wincing as he faced Christine, cupping her hands in his, speaking of undying devotion . . . words that should have been spoken to _me_.

"_Anywhere you go_

_Let me go too . . ._"

A feeling of dread come over me as Christine's hands roved over Erik's face. I noticed that Christine mouthed something to Erik, and my feeling of terror worsened. Christine's lips formed a single word: _Revenge_. Erik didn't seem to notice, and continued to sing.

"_Christine, that's all I ask of_-" Erik couldn't finish, since Christine tore the mask from his face, exposing his horrid deformity to the whole theater. He roared in rage and my heart shattered for him.

I clapped my hands over my mouth, unable to stifle a cry of both rage and pity. "Erik! Oh no!" I screeched as I raced the rest of the way up the stairs. I stood in front of Erik, facing the crowd; I heard Raoul give the order to fire and spread my arms protectively.

"Daevas?" he spat.

I turned to face him, my mask gone. "No, my love." I saw his face contort into a look of absolute shock. His mouth hung open.

"Nasrin?" he gasped, touching my face in awe as he clutched Christine to him.

"I told you. I swore to you that I would always-"

A gunshot pealed through the air. There was a sudden searing pain; then I felt wet blood blossom quickly from the wound. I began to feel faint, and I clutched at Erik's shirt, desperate for him.

"Nasrin!" he bellowed, catching me around my waist as the bullet tore through me.

I clutched his ear to me as I heard him begin to sob. "Run, Erik. Get out of here." I shakily kissed his deformity.

"No! Nasrin you can't-"

"I made my choice . . ." I coughed, feeling my body shut down.

_Was I dying?_

"Run my only love. Don't . . . let this be . . . in . . . vain . . ."

He released me and I saw his face dim before my eyes as my legs gave way. I felt someone catch me in their arms as Erik faded to black. I heard them speak, and I was thus put in someone's charge.

The voices became muffled . . .

Darkness . . .

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

Don Juan was a blur . . .

None of my music mattered anymore . . . not after . . .

Everything went by so quickly. But as I saw Daevas running to me, protecting me, I felt weak. Even before she turned to me, revealing her to be my beautiful Nasrin, I knew.

She was blocking me with her own body . . . for one reason . . .

_See what your negligence has done?_

I had kept Christine close, though now I hardly knew the reason. Now that Nasrin was alive, I could have simply taken her. But then, the unspeakable . . . a bullet, meant to claim my life, ripped through _her_ body. I didn't know where the bullet had struck her, but it was enough to make her cry and cling to me. All I saw on her was blood . . . it was everywhere. I could feel her blood, my Nasrin's blood, dampening my shirt and dripping down my skin and I grabbed her. I never wanted to let her go again. But, she pulled me to her, asking me to leave her . . . _leave her to die_ . . .

As if by a miracle, Madame Giry came running to the catwalk, catching Nasrin just as her eyes closed and she fell completely limp in my arms. I knew not whether she was alive or dead.

"Take her," I said to Madame Giry. "Take care of her."

Giry nodded, knowing that, as my Nasrin was wounded or worse, that Christine was my key to happiness.

I looked once more down at my fair Nasrin, limp and soaked with blood, and grabbed the lever for the trapdoor. Upon looking at the audience, I saw that most of them had fled and the rest of the policemen froze, fearing I would use Christine as a human shield.

But I did see the man who shot Daevas. He twirled his pistol in his fingers, smiling wickedly at what I now knew to be Nasrin's limp form. He then looked at me, making the same motion to shoot me, now that Nasrin was out of the way. It was then that I pledged to kill Jean de Lamarier in the most painful way I knew how. I pulled the lever and, clutching Christine to me, I allowed us to fall below.

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I heart every one of you!**

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**: She didn't because he walked away too quickly. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: Well, that's ok. XD! Here you go, take Erik until my next update! I know, some people are tortured by the lack of romance, but do not fear! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: (revives) I know, I'd faint too. I know, he's dense. Got some sense knocked into him now, didn't he? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: Well, you won't. But now you will, lol. I'm glad you love the story. I know, I wanted the knife to hit too. That would have prevented this whole thing. -.-;; Oh well. You shall see in time. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: LOL, thank you. You and like three other people are the only ones who didn't push for another update before I left. THANK YOU! Anyway, thanks for understanding about the whole romance thing. Again, you are in the minority, but you make this a lot easier. LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: I know, I know . . . well, she got through to him, though not as easily as she wanted. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL, thanks. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: XD! Well, punjabbing Erik wouldn't be great either. But luckily there is no need for that. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: XD! Thanks. You'll know. Erik gets smart, don't worry. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: (gives tissues) And YAY FOR SEEING HUGH! Omg, I heart him like you cannot believe! (and after listening to Sarah Brightman for such a long time, Sandra Joseph seemed to be sort of a let down.) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! (looks over at Erik who jumped of the deep end of the pool) THERE HE GOES! XD! Very amusing review. Anwyay, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**yagirl-123**: Though that is not how they are reunited, I will probably use snippets of that here and there. (nods) Do you write a lot? Because as angsty as you are, you're really good. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: XD! I'm glad last chapter was easier to follow. Well, thanks for the review and here is your update! Now I hope you see why I kept it until I came home. (nervous laughter)

**phantominhell**: Well, yes. LOL. You'll see. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! LMAO! LMBO! LOL! And any other form of laughter expressed through IMs. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mrs. Gerard Butler**: I wish that was my name . . . anyway! If you have ever heard the song "Phantom of the Opera" (as I'm sure you have) after "Your spirit and my voice, in one combined the Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind" there is an interlude by random voices that say "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera! Beware the Phantom of the Opera" so that's where that came from. But I'm using Leroux Christine, yes. I figure she was the original (shrugs) even if my phantom is based off of Hugh Panaro and Gerard Butler. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: XD! Jean's still there, don't worry. Although it will be safe to assume that you will more likely want to kill him than mock him in a little bit. (nods) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: That is a constant complaint, isn't it? Well, do you think if Erik walked by her and she took off her wig he would turn back around if she called? Really, he's too stupidly convinced of his assumption rather than the truth. Stupid Erik. Don't worry, he comes to! LOL! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: XD! I was in Mass. not too long ago. Just thought I'd share that though it has NO relevance to anything. (nervous laughter) Don't worry, Erik comes to. LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**ali**: See Ethalas Tuath'an's review for my reasoning for the wig thing. She isn't dumb, she's just not thinking clearly at the moment. (shrugs) Truth be told, it would have been easier on them both than what's about to happen. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**jessie**: XD! Thank you very much! I know, Erik is silly. XD! A blond moment, LOL! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	26. Nasrin's Sacrifice

"_Am I now to be prey_

_To you lust for flesh?_" –Track Down This Murderer

Chapter 26: Nasrin's Sacrifice

The pain . . .

As I opened my eyes, I found that Erik was gone, and Madame Giry held me in her arms. The bullet wound from my shoulder was gushing fresh blood, and my clothes were already soaked through.

"You foolish, foolish girl! Why would you, _you_ of all people, do something so ill fated?"

I fought against unconsciousness. "I didn't want him to suffer anymore. I love him too much to seek revenge. Now I fear that I shall not live to bask in such a love. However, as long as he lives free from harm, it was worth it." I shivered as my body went through spasms of pain.

"Nasrin, Erik put you in my charge . . . you're going to be all right. Let me take you to a hospital." She lifted me up and began to carry me off the stage.

"If you see him and I am sleeping, be it for forever or a time, tell him that I love him. That . . . I'm sorry . . . that perhaps the beast in me truly fell for the monster in him, and me, his grotesque bride, adored the man he doesn't believe himself to be." I moved to remove my wig and she grabbed my hand.

"No, don't remove your wig. Come, let me take you to safety."

_Safety? No! I have to go to Erik!_

I thrashed from Giry's arms and fell to the ground. Before she could comprehend what I had done, I pulled the lever once again and fell below the trap door. I landed harshly on the ground and collapsed into the wall. Blood surged from the wound and I stumbled down the pathway, gasping for a breath.

_Erik . . . I must get to Erik . . ._

I winced as throes of pain set my nerves aflame. Colored specks danced across my vision as I kept my hand at the level of my eyes while my other hand held fast to my bullet wound.

Staggering through the darkness, I could hear the mob behind me chant in a frenzy, "_Hunt down this animal who runs to ground! Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know, the Phantom of the Opera is here deep down below!_"

"Erik!" I cried weakly, my hand sticky and wet with blood. "Please hear me. If you don't find me . . . I'll die." I fell on my knees, scraping them raw against the unforgiving stone. I began to shake from lack of energy, and sweat beaded on my head. I retched, overcome with pain and my limbs began to numb. The thought of Erik's tortured face forced me to continue on. I lurched forward into a staggering stride. "Even if I do, I just want you to know that I would sacrifice anything to be with you." With that statement, the heavens conspired.

I came to the underground lake, faintly hearing the confrontation between Raoul, Christine, and Erik. All I could make out was that Erik held Raoul's life in his hands and Christine had to choose between living with Erik or killing off Raoul in exchange for her freedom.

"I'm coming, Erik." I gritted my teeth as another spasm of pain ripped through my body. Grabbing the extra boat, I began to row across the lake, each oar stroke its own eternity of suffering. In the middle of the lake, I paused and panted on the floor of the boat, shaking.

My eyesight faded for a brief moment and I felt the world spin in front of me. _No_. _I cannot leave Erik alone. I must reach him._ With newfound strength, I continued my excruciating journey.

When the boat docked, I tripped on my feet. I saw Christine and Erik sharing a passionate kiss with Raoul's life hanging in the balance, as he stood helplessly pinned against the portcullis. I felt my heart break, and I collapsed, halfway submerging myself in the water; my will to survive was severely compromised.

"Daevas," Raoul murmured. "Daevas, wake up!"

I stirred, however I found my body incapable of movement. I could still see the painful scene unfurl before my blurring eyes. As my mouth hung open in the lake, I began to taste my own blood, which was beginning to spread throughout the lake in crimson tendrils.

When Christine broke the kiss, she looked over at Raoul, who stared back at her in panic. I looked at back Erik, who had fallen into a fit of terrible sobs. I wanted so terribly to comfort him, embrace him once again. I was so close. His face was contorted with sorrow and he motioned for Christine to untie Raoul and go with him, no longer maintaining his infamous heartless persona.

I tried to speak, but no words came from my mouth. A cough burst from my throat, causing the water to bubble. I raised my head just enough to prevent myself from drowning.

Christine ran right past me, untied Raoul, and grabbed the boat I had come in. As I summoned all my strength to stand, I stumbled into the boat, taking the oar in my shaking hands. I wanted them away from Erik as soon as possible.

"I'll escort you," I muttered.

"Wait a moment, there is something I need to do," Christine murmured, looking mournfully down at the ring Erik had given her.

_That's right, give that back. Break his heart again so that I may mend it._

_That is, Nasrin, provided you survive this . . ._

Christine leaped from the boat and ran back to Erik, who looked despondently down at his Persian monkey music box, singing mournfully to himself.

"You . . . you are going to stay in this opera house with him?" Raoul asked me as I watched the tragedy unfold.

I nodded mutely, still trying desperately to clot the blood oozing from my shoulder. The metallic smell of my wound clouded the normal dead smell of the labyrinth.

"I could never stay with a monster like him. I am thankful Christine chose me. I could never trust that _beast_ with her."

_HOW DARE YOU!_

I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Before Raoul could react, I raised the oar and struck him across the head. He went flying from the boat and splashed into the water.

"Good for nothing, spoiled, bastard fop," I spat. As Christine leaped in the boat I turned my flaring rage on her. I clenched my fist and struck her in one fluid movement, snickering to myself as she tumbled into the water with Raoul. She emerged, gasping for breath and Raoul climbed in the boat.

I planned to strike him again, however my vision morphed in front of me and I dropped the oar. I fell over the side of the boat and collapsed on the floor, just out of Erik's sight. A few moments later, I heard him sing to Christine as Raoul bore her away on the small gondola.

"_You alone _

_Can make my song take flight . . ._

_It's over now, the Music of the Night!_"

I heard him destroying his precious lair, defacing his artwork, and defiling his most prized possessions. Tears trickled from my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," I murmured, though I found that no trace of my words reached his ear. "Erik!" I cried, finally regaining my voice in a state of pure need.

No answer met my call, and only the bleak darkness of Erik's abandoned lair came to my sharpening sight. He was gone, and I let out a choked sob of pain.

_No . . . oh by Allah I don't have the energy to chase you! Come back! I will heal your wounds if you return!_

Suddenly, a familiar voice, dark with rage, barked from behind, "Hello, fair Madame Fire Rose."

A palpable feeling of dread filled gut and I turned, only now realizing that my wig had floated away with the tide of the lake. My gaze fell on the large angry mob, led by Jean, whose eyes were dark with fury.

"You let me believe you were dead . . . you deceived me and betrayed me! You never loved me, did you _FAIR MADAME FIRE ROSE?_ You _used_ me! You heartless bitch born of a whore! Do you know how much I suffered because of your little _game_?" He threw his torch into the lake. It sizzled as the flames died and smoke plumed around him. The act was surprisingly effective in frightening me. "Well you'll have an idea very soon, my love, because now, you will feel the same pain I did. With Erik gone, and never returning back here, you are mine forever."

"What do you mean?" I asked hazily, my eyelids fluttering. If this kept up, I would collapse and die within the hour.

"If Erik will not make you his wife, I will make you mine." The glint in his eyes deepened to a look of madness.

_He wasn't going to . . . oh Allah no . . ._

I backed away from him, his quickening advance making my heart hammer. I had to flee. Clutching my chastity beads, I stumbled backwards, my legs weak from lack of blood.

"You're mine!" Jean roared, leaping at me. I rolled to the side, causing him to land beside me. Without any hesitation, Jean rolled over on me, pinning me to the ground. He pushed down on my waist and grabbed my chin, forcing me into a brutal kiss.

I cried out, but Jean's mouth muffled my shriek. He bit down hard on my lip and his hot breath surged in my mouth. I could taste a river of my blood run over my tongue; my lips throbbed. Tears fell from my eyes as I felt myself growing helpless.

"Come on, beautiful Fire Rose. Try to enjoy yourself," Jean spat as he grabbed hold of my stockings and yanked them down to my ankles, breaking apart the clasps meant to hold them up.

"Jean, stop it!" My voice rose to a scream as he pulled my waist to his. Jean gritted his teeth and raised his hand, striking me hard across the face. There was a stinging pain as stars danced in front of my eyes.

"There, that should put you into place," Jean growled, grabbing the pistol from his pants and pressed the cold metal under my chin. Fighting death from one bullet wound was one thing; another bullet burying itself into my flesh was another. "You move, or scream, and I'll shoot you. And this time, I won't miss your heart."

_He was the one who shot the first bullet?_

I tried to yank my head away, but I gritted my teeth as I heard his gun click. Jean hastily untied my black corset and tore off my crimson dress, leaving me in nothing but my chastity beads to cover me. I felt my limbs go numb as he yanked me to him. His body quivered against mine, and I felt sick; I squirmed, feeling the extent of his arousal pushing against legs.

"Hold still!" he roared, tying my wrists to the swan bed's head. His hands roved shamelessly over me body and he pried my legs open, though I fought to keep them closed. He grinned and held fast to my waist. That sick look in his eye would never leave me.

Not wanting to see anymore, I closed my eyes as his body assaulted mine. Each time his disgusting hands grazed my flesh I winced and turned from him. I didn't want to see his cheeks flushed in desire. Desire for what should never be his. Daring one look at him, I saw his gray eyes burn in an animalistic fire as thrust after thrust became sharper, more painful.

_This can't be what it's really like. Erik wouldn't touch me like this. It wouldn't hurt . . . He would be gentle . . . He would be gentle . . ._

Jean's scorching breath blew against my face; I felt as though I would vomit and I began to squirm again.

"I . . . said . . . hold still!" A gunshot resonated through the air and I quivered, the bullet grazing my arm and burying itself into the stone floor. As soon as I began to feel slightly at ease, Jean struck me across the face with the butt of the pistol. I felt faint and my senses began to dull slightly as warm blood oozed from my face. In defeat, I whimpered.

_Nasrin, I love you_ . . .

A voice from above flitted through my head, sending a calming sensation through my battered body. I began to grow warmer with the thought of him.

_Erik?_

The voice didn't answer and I became cold again as Jean's barbarity destroying the one treasure I kept.

Thrust . . . after thrust . . .

_Erik!_ I called in my mind, desperate for an escape. A destructive ache pulsed from between my legs, dulled by my fading consciousness. Was this the final threshold? Could my body possibly take anymore?

_Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime . . . _The words became sharper in my head. Erik's voice was strained with longing and sorrow . . . sorrow for me.

_Erik!_

_Say the word, and I will follow you. Share each day with me . . . each night . . . each morning . . ._ The voice was growing louder, drowning out the sound of Jean, who was grunting at the height of his pleasure. In my mind I damned every inch of him to the inner most circle of hell where he belonged.

_Erik, please hear me!_ I cried in my mind, unable to form words at my mouth.

_Now I know that what we held was true . . . Nasrin, please know I need you too!_ The voice rose to frightening volume as Jean bellowed a curse at me, striking my face again.

"ERIK!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my cry tearing from my raw throat.

I felt a warm rush swell inside me, and Jean's voice fell, reduced to ragged gasps. He grabbed my neck and squeezed.

"I told you not to scream, you filthy tramp," Jean growled, spitting on my face. "At least you felt it. You won't die the pure little virgin you were made out to be." He grabbed the chastity beads from my waist and tore them from my skin, sending the carved wooden beads tumbling all over the floor. "And some fun before I do the one thing to claim you as mine forever." Jean drew a knife from his belt and brought it down hard on my flesh, drawing open small wounds all over my torso, sparing only my breasts.

Then, he hovered over my pelvis bone and punctured the skin slightly, tearing the skin apart as he carved the letter 'L' into my flesh.

"There," he spat, his visage as hateful as ever. "Now you will always be mine!"

I whimpered, my tears pooling as they trickled from my eyes.

_Forgive me, my only love. I have failed you . . ._

My eyesight blurred in front of me and my senses dulled completely, Jean's sick laughter muffled as I lost consciousness. My head fell back and I fell still, noticing faintly that I still bled.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

Solitude had never before felt this terrible . . .

After I released Christine, I knew that I would be alone forever. Nasrin looked too corpse-like when I left Madame Giry with her. I wouldn't be able to live if I went back above and find that she had passed away. If she survived, she would follow me, of that I was certain. And if she did, I would have a reason for life once more. Until then, I would flee from the guilt that would ensue should I return to find her gone.

And so, I walked through a corridor alone. I didn't know where I was going, but anything was more welcome than the sight of Nasrin's dead body.

_Nasrin, I love you._ I stopped walking and looked sullenly back at my lair.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you._ I sang in my head what my mouth had never dared to say. _Share each day with me . . . each night . . . each morning . . . Now I know that what we held was true . . . Nasrin, please know I need you too!_

"ERIK!" A screeching voice echoed throughout the hall. It stopped my heart as the familiarity of it twisted itself around me. Nasrin . . . she was alive?

_She is in pain . . ._

I ran back in the direction of my lair, overcome with both joy and dread. I heard Jean laugh, his spiteful voice echoing all around. "You won't die the pure little virgin you were made out to be!" Following his statement, I heard small objects hit the floor and roll until they struck something. As I ran to my lair, I tripped on one of the small wooden spheres. I crashed painfully to the ground, grabbing what made me fall. As my fingers ran over its smooth surface, a sickening feeling of dread froze my blood.

_Is this what I think it is? Oh please God let me be wrong once more . . ._

I pulled a candle from the passage close to me. I had to see if my worst fear was confirmed. I brought the fire closer to what I held in my hand. There, in between my fingers was a single wooden bead, engraved with Middle Eastern symbols. I was right . . . it was one of Nasrin's chastity beads.

A red-hot rage burned behind my eyes and I closed my fist around the bead. A fury worse than anything I had ever felt set my blood aflame. This was far more infuriating than having Christine abandon me, being tormented at the masquerade ball, and being whipped at the gypsy fair. My body tensed as I rose to my feet. I would enjoy the bath of blood I would draw for myself.

"NASRIN!" I roared, bursting through the curtain. I stood facing Jean, my rage darkening into madness as I saw his face, flushed scarlet and sweaty. His hands were drenched in the blood that spewed from wounds not his own. "What did you do to her?" I hissed. I grabbed Jean's neck and threw him against the wall, grinning with satisfaction as his head cracked against the stone. "Where is she?" I roared.

"Over there, you satanic bastard," Jean spat back, motioning with his head over to the swan bed.

I gazed over towards the swan bed, dreading the sight that would meet my eyes. My eyes bulged and I felt sick.

Nasrin lay naked in a pool of her own blood, her body covered in grotesque bruises and slashes while her eyes were swollen shut. Her hands were swelled from being tied up for so long, and her flesh that wasn't drenched in blood had paled significantly.

Overcome, I threw Jean aside, relishing as he gasped for a breath. "I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!" Every word felt more gratifying as I said it. Monster or man, this was unavoidable.

Forsaking my promise of an intensely painful death, I grabbed a thick rope from the ground and hastily tied it into my Punjab lasso, a knot above the noose. The one he had so brutally defiled would assist in his demise, even though she lay near or embracing death. "You . . . should never . . . have . . . touched . . . my . . . WIFE!" I threw the lasso around Jean's neck, tightening it in twisted satisfaction. I wanted nothing more than for the cursed breath coming from his mouth to stop forever.

Jean let out a high-pitched gasp as the rope dug into his skin and he clutched uselessly at it, trying to loosen its deadly grip. I raised my foot and kicked him down on his stomach, digging the heel of my shoe into his spinal cord. I could feet it twisting under my weight. With a sickening tug, I yanked back on the rope, snapping Jean's neck in half. He let out a gurgle as his final breath seeped from his mouth.

I heard twelve guns cock and turned to face the rest of the mob, letting the rope slip between my fingers. There were onlookers to this crime? I snarled, my upper lip quivering in scarlet fury. Nothing could satiate my bloodlust except the blood of the heathens who had watched that revolting pig sully my Nasrin. "What about all of you? You let him defile her?" The guns were pointed at various vital points on my body. They were not going to shoot me. Now, for these disgusting souls, death had a face and a name. And it was me. "You let him, didn't you? You twisted bastards! You're all next!" I saw three of the guns ready to fire and I ducked under my table, running as fast as I could around them. I grabbed my stash of Punjab lassos and flung them around some of their necks. In similar satisfaction, I tightened them, smiling as one by one they collapsed in the lake.

The rest of them visibly hesitated, seeing the rage on my face. They lowered their guns and looked at each other, fear in their eyes. The rest turned tail and fled from the lair, carelessly tossing the guns away, which splashed in the water. Some stayed to gather the dead, including the Comte, and bring them back above.

I watched them go with my fury still unsatisfied. My gaze met that of frightened small Meg Giry, who clutched my white mask.

"Put it down, little Giry," I hissed as levelly as I could. Shaking, she placed it down and fled with the rest, her blue eyes watering.

I turned around quickly and ran to Nasrin's side, forgetting about the mob and focusing only on her.

_And what my insolence has done to her . . ._

She laid still, her scalp stained crimson from the gruesome puddle that pooled from the bullet wound in her shoulder. Her face was swollen and bloody, her eyes black and blue. Her hands were swelled purple from the tight rope that bound her to the neck of my swan bed. I hastily untied her wrists, allowing her battered body to fall limp. As I wrapped my hand around her waist to prevent her head from striking the ground, I was unnerved to find it so cold, devoid of its usual warmth. I began to tear, running my finger across the soft length of her swelled lips.

"I had wanted us to share one more embrace, my Nasrin. I prayed for it." I clutched her to my chest, allowing two tears to fall to her shoulder. By God she was so cold. The only heat emitting from her body was the fresh blood that seeped from her uncountable wounds. "But not like this . . . not like this." I kissed her still lips, wanting more than ever to feel her kiss me back. But her lips remained placid. "Please Nasrin . . . please don't leave me alone again. You're all I have." She didn't twitch, and I frantically put my hand on her neck, searching for a pulse. I could feel a faint heartbeat meet my fingers and I sighed. I then turned my attention to the bullet lodged in her shoulder.

Without reservation, I inserted my finger into her wound, searching for the fateful bullet among soft tissue. When the metal met my finger, I cupped my pinky under it and tore it out. The shell fell into my palm and rolled about it, coating my hand with more blood. I looked at the bloody thing in my hand, grimacing at it slightly before tossing it carelessly into the lake, barely hearing it as it caused a tiny splash before sinking into the inky water.

Suddenly, she lurched up, her eyes flying open in strained agony and a shallow yet sharp gasp burst from her lungs. I was so startled I almost dropped her. She looked awake, yet not cognizant and I moved into her vision, watching with amazement as her bright eyes found mine. Yet . . . they were blank, and I knew she wasn't processing that I was truly with her. She grasped firmly to my shirt and pulled herself against me, shaking with the sudden amount of effort.

"Nasrin . . . be still. Everything is going to be all right. I'm here," I whispered softly in her ear. She shook and panted against my skin, and I feared that she would over exert herself. But her voice, tremulous and pacified in a way I had never heard, reached my ears.

"You are an angel . . . an angel . . . yes . . . you have been sent by Allah to take me away. Did he instruct you to take the shape of my only love? He works in mysterious ways . . . but if you are to take me now . . . it's all right . . . I'm at peace. But could you do one thing for me, my sweet guardian angel?" Her shaking became slightly more intense and I did not know whether to simply listen, or unhealthily startle her with the truth. "Find my real love, wherever he is now . . . and tell him that I love him . . . that he alone could tame the beast in me. And also . . ." She trailed off and I pulled away to see her eyes beginning to dull, the spark fading slowly. I quickly clutched her to me.

"What, beautiful Nasrin?" I fought tears, not wanting to admit to myself that she was dying, and quickly at that.

"Tell him that I found lifetimes of solace in his presence, unsurpassed love in his embrace, true passion in his song as well as his lips, and . . ." She fought for a breath and coughed once against my shoulder. "And that I found my immortal paradise in his eyes . . ." She sighed and began to fall limp.

"Nasrin it's me!" I cried frantically as her eyes rolled back and her body fell limp. I pressed my lips against hers, both proclaiming my love and sending air to her lungs. She fell completely flaccid and I felt one shallow breath seep from her lips to mine before everything went still.

Was I holding her last breath within me? I breathed back into her mouth, fighting against the laws of nature for her life. I quickly pressed my finger against her neck again, searching desperately for a pulse. A dam of relief burst as I felt a faint heartbeat push against my fingers.

Quickly, turning back to my work, I grabbed a needle with black thread and cleaned her bullet wound before sewing it shut. There would be a scar without a doubt, but she would survive . . . I would ensure that.

I ripped my shirt and wrapped it around her shoulder for extra protection. "I wish I could kill him again," I growled huskily, seeing the remaining welts on her body becoming livid purple. I grabbed a bathing cloth, a pair of my black pants, and a white undershirt from my desk.

Taking the bathing cloth first, I cleaned her wounds free of dirt and grime as well as dried blood. By the time that was finished, the cloth was sodden with blood and the stench of iron lingered about it. With modest reservation, I slid the cloth between her legs to clot the slight flow of blood coming from her inner thighs and femininity.

_Such brutality . . . what will she be like when she awakens again?_

If_ she awakens again . . ._

_No . . . _when_ she awakens again . . ._

I grabbed my undershirt and slid her limp arms through, closing it around her chest. Removing the cloth, I slid first her undergarments over her, following them closely with my pair of black pants. I then tucked the shirt inside the pants and looked back at my handiwork with a melancholy sigh. She was so small and frail looking in my large clothes. It was almost as if she lost an unprecedented amount of weight in a short period of time.

"You must rest now," I told her, though I knew she couldn't hear me. "I'll lie you down." I lifted her up in my arms, making sure her head was pushed against my chest. It wasn't my imagination . . . she had become a great deal lighter. My poor Nasrin . . .

Peering around the room, I was met with the familiar sight of her old bed on the floor, still untouched from when she left it for good over a year ago. How many nights had been spent arguing over whether or not she would be allowed to sleep in a decent bed? How trivial it all was now. She would sleep in my bed every day for the rest of her life; and if anything, I would sleep on the floor. Nasrin deserved everything. And I would fight to give her anything to make her comfortable.

_No one will hurt her again . . ._

Smiling somberly, I laid her down gently in what was now her bed, covering her with the red silken sheet. I caressed her bloody cheek, hesitating for a moment before climbing into the bed with her, enclosing her limp body in my arms, swearing on my life that I would keep her safe forevermore. We had suffered enough.

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! MWA!**

**Naomipoe**: XD! Thank you! (squeezes Yoda doll)

Doll: Too much confidence you have.

Shade: O.O;; (puts it down) Ok, on to business. LOL. Don't worry, Christine doesn't emerge from this story unscathed. But thank you (bows) I am very flattered. HUGS FOR YOU! (from Erik mind you, as me hugging random people would seem kinda off)

Erik: (hugs tightly)

Shade: YAY! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Maidenhair**: It's ok. Thanks for reading and commenting thus far! HUGS!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! A Gerry on top. Well, I think that convinced me, LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: LOL, you can be with him in spirit as they fight. (nods) Stupid fop. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: LOL, yes I am. Hopefully the numbers will still rise! (crosses fingers) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**AngelxOfxMusicx**: BWAHAHAHA! YAY! (celebration) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: Do you honestly think I would kill Nasrin off like that? I'm not THAT mean. Hope your body and feet are feeling better! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**yagirl-123**: LOL, well, Jean was going to shoot her anyway. I am actually surprise you guessed it. Shows we think very much alike. Don't worry, the lines work themselves in, only slightly tweaked for my writing style. (nods) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: XD! Meat raisins? LMAO! Thank you very much! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: LOL, don't worry about it. Luv ya too! Glad to be home! (dances) Thanks for the review and here is your update! Oh, btw, how was your time with Erik? (wink)

**AngelOfTheNight**: XD! I know, I know. OH! YAY! That'd be cool though. How was it, btw? Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ali**: (pats) Everything will be all right. Natsuki told me that she warned you of the cliffie of unyayness. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: Well, the chapter was short because it set the stage for this one. Nothing I could have done to change it. XD! 19th century Italian mobsters. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: Well, he thought that Nasrin was dead, so he can't really stay with her. What good would it do? He just kinda figured that Christine could make him happy even though Nasrin 'died.' Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! Nasrin enjoyed the lollipop very much.

Nasrin: (is sucking on it)

Shade: And Erik had mixed feelings about your other advance. XD! He liked the kisses and everything, but the smack kinda peeved him. Oh well, he'll live. XD! I heart you Sunbeam! (GLOMP) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: I'm sorry. But now you understand why I wanted it to be kept until after I got back. Nasrin appreciates the hug, though she's kinda knocked out at the moment and can't express it.

Nasrin: X.x

Shade: (nervous laughter) AND YAY FOR THE PIANO! (dances) Anyway, thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: XD! Sorry, cliffies of doom are not yay. XD! YAY FOR PUNCHING JEAN! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Crimson Rose to Ebony**: Welcome back from vacation. Well, all your suspicious have been answered. (wink) You honestly think I would let Nasrin die like that? LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Jessie**: Thank you! And yes, Jean shot Nasrin. Stupid ugly fophead of unyayness! So be my guest, smack and kick him at will! Thanks for your review and here is your update!


	27. Yearning for Sin

**Shade: Hello! I'm going on another week long vacation without internet access. Don't worry, I left no cliffies of doom for you. So anyway, just expect an update next Saturday or Sunday, ok? Ok, here you go!**

"_Demons have ravaged my being._

_My wounds all have stories to tell._

_While my body's safe in the darkness,_

_My mind burns . . . in . . . Hell!_" -Nasrin

Chapter 27: Yearning for Sin

I watched Nasrin for days, tending to every unspoken whim her body conveyed. Her wounds were slowly clotting, and I saw her skin gradually take on its healthy hue of burnished gold. I knew she was painfully weak, for I saw her ribs move with each breath, and I could make out the workings of her muscles and tendons under her skin. I had forgotten that a life could be so fragile.

Though I knew she was weak, I became concerned with the idea that, perhaps, Nasrin did not want to awaken; that the blow done to her pride and dignity would be enough to make her crave death, even if I were able to comfort her. The thought seemed more and more plausible as time went on and even the last scabs fell from her wounds, leaving in their wake pale scars. It seemed as though she wanted to die; her will to survive appeared to be all but gone, and the thought frightened me.

It struck me instantaneously one day . . . She wanted to die because her body was not pure anymore. She had been sullied and the thought made her sick of life. Perhaps, if she believed herself to be pure again, she would wish to spend her days beside me.

I looked down at her placid body stretched gracefully over the swan bed. Despite the turmoil her body had endured, she was still unbearably beautiful. I ached to hold her in her time of pain as she had done for me, but I had a sinking feeling that any embrace we shared now would never be the same. Every time she held me she would think of Jean's actions, and every time I held her, I will remember how she looked when I returned to her. Pain would taint our love forevermore, even if she found it in her to love me completely. We cursed ones were never meant to ever be truly at peace.

I knew what it was I needed to do for her to ease her pain. . . but I refused to leave her side. Some one would have to come below and assist me, and I doubted that would ever come to pass. I walked over to what served as my kitchen, dipped a golden chalice into a bucket of water, and brought it back to Nasrin. I urged her head up to me and put the cup to her lips. Tipping the chalice slightly, I poured some of the water down her throat, rubbed her esophagus and forced her to swallow it. The process went smoothly, and I was thankful. I had been getting better at keeping her fed over the course of the days.

Sighing, I climbed into bed with her and ran my hand over her cheek, feeling a pained adoration in the softness of her flesh. I wanted her to feel my caress, wherever her mind lay, and know that I waited for her; that I would always wait for her. For a few hours I slipped into a restless slumber, consumed with my own dark assumptions concerning my Fire Rose.

I was rudely awakened by the sound of a boat being rowed laboriously through the passage to my lair. I sat up and groaned, my mind still buzzing from concern.

"Erik!" a loud voice boomed and I cringed. That annoying yawp was all too familiar.

"Daroga?" I called.

"Erik! You are alive?" He sounded relieved and I walked out of my room, slightly irritated. I resigned myself to silence as I slowly gathered my bearings and approached Nadir, who saw Nasrin in my bed and had immediately become pensive.

"Erik? Why is there a man in your bed?"

I growled. "That is a _woman_, daroga, dressed in my clothes."

"Have you bought yourself a whore?" was the next question.

My temper flared as my dignity took a blow. "Of course not! You know damn well I wouldn't sink to something like that!"

"Would you mind if I looked at her?" Nadir asked, insolently curious as to what I wanted secret.

"What are your intentions, daroga? Satisfying your insatiable nosiness?" I hissed.

He looked at me oddly. "Is she your lover of recent?"

I had almost had come to the boiling point as his inquiry showed no sign of a cessation. "We shall know when she awakens. For now, daroga, I require your assistance in a very pressing matter."

"Oh," Nadir mumbled. "What would that be?"

"Take this money, go to a carpenter, and buy two kilograms of the finest wood it will buy. Do it with haste." I dropped a sack of coins in his hand and his eyes widened in alarm as the full weight of the money pressed down.

"Why do you need this?"

Why was it in his nature to push me to the brink of violence? I grabbed a rope and narrowed my eyes, proving the severity of the situation. "Curiosity slays the Persian, daroga. You had better get moving."

Nadir nodded and shot a concerned look back at me before he rowed away, the coins tucked safely under his coat. Sighing, I convinced myself to play the organ softly, although its touch was foreign to my fingers. I knew not how long it had been since I last played; all I knew was that it was shorter than the gap between my last playing of intense fervency.

When Nadir returned, he dropped the blocks of wood on my desk. They were mahogany, beautiful slaps of wood, the grains etched in perfection. I ran my finger over its smooth surface, grinning solemnly with the promise it held.

"Is that wood fitting enough?" Nadir asked quietly.

I turned to him, the faint residue of a smile on my pain worn face. "Yes. This is fine indeed, daroga." I looked once more at the wood.

A realization struck me; this was Jean's fault. That bastard son of a whore had sullied her; he had been the origin of her pain, her scars, her tainted purity and memories. Hatred bloomed from within me and caused a tingling and numbing in my fingers. For some one who already lay without the gift of life, I wanted to rob him of everything he had left. I turned to Nadir and he became rigid at my change in persona.

"Nadir, there is an immediate affair I must attend to. You stay here; do not become dangerously curious. I will return. If there are any stirrings from she who lays in my bed, alert me upon my return."

Nadir seemed stunned and all he could force his body to do was move into a shaky nod. "Of course. How quick shall I expect your return?"

I smiled with a demon's glee. "Once true revenge is exacted. That is the only time I can give."

Quickly donning my cape and mask, I stormed to the boat and hastily rowed across the lake, not even noticing the passage of time. I unconsciously made the journey as my mind dwelled on darker and more sinister ways to dispose and mutilate the carcass of Jean de Lamarier, the Comte who sullied my bride.

Once in the Paris streets, I looked around, curious as to where the funeral of that despicable pig would be held. "Where is the nearest and most elaborate funeral parlor?" I hissed to a man passing by. He wielded on me and pointed me down the Rue de l'Opera.

"Down there, Monsieur. It's a large structure, called 'Le Rose Faneé' I believe," he scoffed.

"Good," I snarled, storming past him and pushing past anyone who dared intrude upon my way of passage. Many nobles dared to scoff and groan in distaste as I passed them, however for once I paid no heed to scorning remarks. Driven by the pure desire of a dangerous mix of justice and revenge, I threw open the door to the funeral parlor, startling many of the mourners inside.

Luckily, the funeral was not for the satanic Comte and I made a spectacle of pushing more people aside. Upon reaching the morgue, I searched for Jean's body among the countless other faceless dead. I found him in the center of the room, slightly decaying as he unknowingly awaited his final sleeping place.

I walked up to his body, smiling at the crooked bones in his neck. I had never been more proud of a murder. Removing the sheet draped over him, I drew a knife from my pocket and stabbed it into his flesh, dragging it down across his chest, opening a dark wound in his torso. Immediately, a strong and loathsome stench rose up from the carcass and I gagged. I hadn't known a corpse could retain such an awful smell. Closing my nose, I began to cut gruesome slashes across his face, slitting his eyelids and severing his ears.

Each stroke mimicked a surge of hatred that pulsated through me. Each gouge personified my rage. Uncountable wounds appeared on his flesh and I didn't remember making half the wounds on him. I was too absorbed with the idea of taking revenge which would satiate only my rage.

I looked down and for a brief moment, held a sense of restraint; However, I soon realized that what I held my knife over was the exact appendage which decimated my hopes at blissful tranquility. With one slash of the knife, that one spiteful organ was detached forever. Grinning, I severed his nose and tossed it aside.

Feeling as though my mutilation was complete, I stabbed the knife into him one last time before tossing the weapon aside and sneaking out the back. I grimaced as daylight met my blood soaked clothes. I immediately closed my cloak and hid the crimson stains on my clothing. I hastily sped through the streets, not knowing if anyone could smell the stench of a rotting body, which lingered about me like smog. I hastily ran back to the Opera, my revenge for blood finally fulfilled.

xXxXx

**Nasrin's POV**:

I drifted aimlessly through the corridors of my mind, my memories sharpening as I relived each one in an almost painfuly sluggish pace.

_Why was I still alive? Why hadn't Allah taken me yet? I had nothing left to live for. Did he think I would find solace in the times I fought so hard to eradicate from my memory?_

Reluctantly, I gazed at myself through an angel's eyes, watching as I grew from being a horribly gawkish girl lost in the shadows of my brothers, to being the beautiful dancer I had been up until . . . I dared not speak it. I watched my body change before my eyes, my ego swell with pride, and my passage through the knowledge of my people and religion.

Because of my inability to hold a suitor, I cursed Allah and rebelled against the normal strict Muslim customs. Most obviously my need to show my skin to other men.

Forgetting my train of thought, I stopped at one memory, watching it with eyes narrowed in scorn. The time was all too familiar to me and I hated remembering any man other than my Erik.

"_You are not to dance anymore. You will be my bride, mine alone. No one should undress you with their eyes now that you are promised to me._" Khortdad's deep voice pierced through my mind. If he spoke to me as I was now, intimidation would be evident. Whereas back then, I was too much consumed with my ego and pride that such a voice could not scathe me.

"_Khortdad, I love to dance! It is how I feel alive! You will never take it away from me!_" My voice, slightly younger, squeaked high in defiance and I knew what would result in my disobedience.

"_I can and I will, filthy wench!_" Khortdad struck the younger version of myself, laughing slightly as I fell on my side. I saw my face twist with pain before returning to normal.

"_You will not!_"

"_Be quiet!_" Khortdad grabbed a torch from the far side of the room and stalked over to my smaller self, his knuckles blanching in anger. I could see the fear overtake my face like a plague. The act that determined my destiny drew nearer.

"_Khortdad, take that away from me!_" I had cried, crawling back until I felt the cold sandstone wall against my back.

"_If you won't stop dancing voluntarily, I'll make sure you look so that no one will want to watch you!_" He grabbed my beautiful long hair and yanked it up to him. His mud-colored eyes were wild with malice as he lowered the torch to my hair. I let out a siren-like shriek as the hot embers ate through my locks, setting my tresses ablaze. I watched myself roll around on the floor, throwing sand on my hair, trying to snuff out the flames and prevent that which I knew now to be inevitable. Khortdad grabbed a blunt knife from the table and slashed at my head, cutting thin jagged gashes across my already destroyed scalp.

_Add insult to injury; you just sealed your fate unknowingly Khortdad. Even to this day I do not regret my actions._

When the flames died, the younger me passed out, my skin charred and sizzling. The smell of burning flesh was everywhere and I coughed. The memory faded as I moved farther on in my life. I was thankful to leave such a place in time.

The next memory emerged; I was sixteen, and sewing a patch into a blanket, humming a tune to myself. My wig slipped slightly and I hastily reset it, looking around and making sure no one saw me.

"_Nasrin, come to me. We are to be wed today,_" Khortdad spat, grabbing me harshly by my arm and yanking me to my feet. The quilt dropped to the ground and I squealed in fright before turning on him.

"_If you want to marry me, you will be gentle with me,_" I warned.

"_I won't tonight. You'll be mine, and you chastity beads will be mine._" A sick grin grew on his face and I watched the rest of the memory with a twisted satisfaction, knowing what was to come.

"_After what you did to me I will never be yours!_" I spat, clenching my fists.

"_Oh, but you will. And you will love spending every night underneath me._"

My face twisted. "_Never!_" I grabbed the rope by my feet and tied it into the Punjab lasso Azara had taught me to make. My teacher had _known_ without knowing that I would do this. I hastily wrapped the noose around his neck and kicked him down, my heel on his back. I yanked back on the rope and his neck snapped. Grabbing money and a cloak, I fled from the house, tears streaming down my young face. It was both gratifying and saddening at the same time. I knew that I would soon be taken to Erik . . . and a new life of pain would commence. And yet, it was also a time I treasured and wouldn't trade for any amount of wealth in the world.

Again, a change in memory: I was with Erik this time. I watched myself fall for him, helplessly devoting my life and body to him, knowing I would never truly be his. I watched myself yearn for him, knowing all too well that I could never take the place of Christine.

And then, Jean Lamarier emerged, his hateful face above mine, panting in terrible pleasure, his normally benign gaze sharp with fervent passion.

_No . . . I don't want to see! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! Please!_

I forced myself into awakening as the visions became too unbearable and screamed at the top of my lungs. My hoarse voice reverberated back to me and I heard a masculine cry follow shortly after. I panicked and threw the covers off of me, hiding behind the bed just as I heard some one enter the room.

"Hello?" came a voice as the footsteps drew closer. I shivered and began to cry, hoping I wasn't alone with him. I was frightened out of my mind and I felt my stomach churn.

"Where are you?" came the voice and I bowed my head, hiding it in my hands and succumbing to a fit of spasmodic shivering.

_Please don't let him find me . . . don't let him hurt me . . . don't let him touch me . . ._

A hand gripped fast to my wrist and I panicked. I screeched and stood up, facing the man before me, my vision blurred by tears.

"Oh by Allah! Nasrin!" the voice cried.

In fright, I lashed out, striking the figure and tearing myself from his grasp. I ran out of the room, not even processing where I was, and stumbled about frantically, searching for a door that did not exist. Colors blurred before me and I immediately vomited, not even knowing in which direction I faced. I was stumbling over things, pushing past others and I heard water splashing around. Where was I? Suddenly, I heard another male voice; this one far more terrifying than the first.

"Daroga, what's going on here?" The voice was loud and menacing and I felt my knees weaken.

I saw a rapier sheathed in a black case and I drew it out, pointing it menacingly at the blurry figures that approached me. They moved slowly and I whimpered, my face twitching in fear.

"You won't touch me! You scum won't hurt me again! Back away! I'll kill you both!"

"Nasrin, you cannot even hold the sword steady," said the figure closest to me. He reached out and pushed the blade of the sword aside. His hands were smeared with scarlet and my panic consumed me once again. I cried out and swung the sword, hoping to sever the head of my assailant. Instead, I opened a large gash across his collarbone.

He bellowed a curse, but retreated backwards, refusing to touch the wound. Obviously it was someone else's blood on his hands. The other figure approached and grabbed the sword, tore it from my grasp, and struck me coldly across the face. I stumbled, unable to steel myself for such a powerful blow. I crumpled to the ground, retaining consciousness for a brief moment before all went black once again . . .

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

The last thing I expected to find upon my return was what played before my eyes.

I expected to find Nasrin still sleeping soundly and Nadir sitting dutifully as an ignorant dog by my desk, still pondering what the wood would be made into. I instead returned to chaos.

Nasrin had stumbled from my bedroom, so frightened that I feared she would induce her own death from heart failure. I saw Nadir chase after her, just as panicked as she. When his eyes met mine, he was struck pallid and I felt as though he was scared to be caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

"Daroga, what is the meaning of this?" I roared, fearing what he had done to worsen Nasrin's condition. However, it seemed that my voice had further elevated the terror in her and as I leaped off the boat, she grabbed a sword and pointed it at us. She was shaking and sweat beaded on her head; but she was fiercely in a state.

I thought she could see me, know I meant no harm to her; and so I had no problems approaching her slowly. I gently pushed the blade aside and moved to embrace her. However I saw the blade shimmer as it moved through the candlelight and I leaped back, emerging with a scathing wound across my collarbone. I wanted to press my wound closed, but I remembered that Jean's blood was on my hands. Clotted as it was, I would not have it coursing in _my_ veins.

The unthinkable followed the assault. Nadir stormed up beside me and struck her down, taking advantage of her weakness and overpowering her with a single blow to the cheek. She crumpled in a pitiful ball and fell still.

In a fit of unstoppable rage, I wielded on Nadir and dealt him a powerful blow across the face.

"How could you do that!" I roared; my face flushed in wrath.

"She tried to kill you!" he bellowed back. "She's unstable!"

"With good reason!" I retorted, my voice rising as I got angrier.

"And what reason is it to bare steel against a man?" he hissed.

"She . . ." I didn't have the heart to finish and I trailed off. I looked once more down at her and sighed, dipping my hands in the lake and cleansing them of the Comte's filthy blood. "Get out of here for now, daroga. I expect you back here tomorrow, same time. I need some items purchased and you will get them for me. But for now, leave, and be quick about it."

"How is Nasrin still alive? I thought she was dead." Nadir blinked slowly as he examined the broken state of Nasrin's curled up body.

"She was Daevas, haunting me while faking her own death. A brilliant idea to exact just revenge. However, neither of us expected this turn of events. Now leave, daroga, before I lose my patience."

Nadir left wordlessly, undoubtedly as confused as when he arrived earlier. I remained, gathering up the limp frame of Nasrin in my arms. Carrying her over to the bed, I laid her down again gently and only now realized that I had forgotten to dress my wound. I numbly cleaned it and walked over to the bed, stroking her cheek again. I was alarmed to find her flesh burning hot.

Realizing that Nadir would not return until tomorrow, I simply placed a cool, wet cloth on her forehead and snuggled up beside her. I knew now that I could not sleep, and so I found solace in keeping my finger on her pulse.

The days dragged on from there. Nadir successfully obtained some medicinal liquids that helped to quell Nasrin's raging fever. She would stir often, but she hadn't yet become as cognizant as she had been before . . . if one could even call her madness cognizant at all. I would watch her and tend to her every need whilst working on the wood Nadir had purchased for me.

Slowly, my craft began to take the form of several carved wooden beads, engraved with Middle Eastern symbols. Though the wood was finely cut, numerous stray splinters of wood had punctured my hands bloody. Not even my gloves helped prevent the splinters.

When I finished the string of beads, I approached her limp form and tied them around her waist. Smiling somberly, I looked at my handiwork. New chastity beads, for my Nasrin. As I sat down beside her, she began to stir, screwing her eyelids shut and moaning as tears slipped from between her thick lashes.

"NO!" Nasrin sat up and screamed hoarsely, her face bathed in a cold sweat. Her face was no more than a hair's breath from mine. She panted and clutched her chest, her eyes wide with fear and I immediately knew what had plagued her peaceful sleep. Her eyes met mine for the first time with the intense clarity I had known and loved for so long.

"Erik?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"Nasrin," I answered dumbly, unable to speak anything other than her name.

She looked at me through wide, doe-like eyes. "Erik?" She hesitantly reached her hand out to me. I remained still, aching to feel her hand on my face. My eyes closed as she touched my cheek, her shaking fingers moving slowly over my skeletal face. Suddenly, the hand left and a hard blow to my cheek sent me reeling. My eyes shot open and I saw her glaring at me, shaking with a rage the likes of which I had never seen.

"Are we living?" she hissed.

"Yes of course, my dear," I answered reassuringly. Her expression became black with hate and she struck me again; I did nothing to protest.

"WHY DID YOU SAVE ME? WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME DIE?" she roared. Somehow, I wasn't surprised by this reaction.

"I needed you here with me. If you died . . ." I stopped, seeing her expression become angrier, if that was even possible.

"You let me live for your own selfishness! I am worth nothing now, you hear? NOTHING! Forget it now! I won't take my own life. I command you to kill me!"

I raised one eyebrow. "Of course I won't do that."

Nasrin looked immediately defeated and mumbled in a traumatic whisper, "Then where is your bathing cloth?"

"Does that matter at the moment?" I asked, perturbed.

"Where is it?" she shrieked.

I immediately brought it to her side, unnerved at the madness in her movements. She threw the covers off of her and ran over to the lake, tearing off her clothing and diving into the water. She breached the surface and gasped as the icy water of the lake sent a shock to her sleepy system. Without hesitation, she began scrubbing herself furiously with the cloth, crying.

"Maybe, if I scrub myself hard enough, I can wash away the filth. I would be pure again. And then I could stand to live," she said, brutally rubbing the coarse cloth over her soft skin.

I saw the promise of blood with every movement and I leaped up and ran after her. "Nasrin! Stop it!"

"No!" she screeched, pushing me away and turning from me in shame. "No, don't look at me! I don't deserve it! Don't look at me!" She scrubbed herself harder.

I saw the cloth begin to turn crimson as her furious attempt at self-cleansing deteriorated into self-mutilation. "You're hurting yourself! Nasrin, you're bleeding! That's enough!" I moved to grab at her.

She turned around and glared at me, her eyes sunken in with emotional agony. In a moment, she struck me hard across the face, shaking with misplaced rage. My eyes widened in disbelief and I furrowed my eyebrows, attempting to judge her next move. She moved to strike me again, but I grabbed her wrist tightly, grimacing as she winced in pain.

"Now what are you going to do?" I asked, hoping to make her understand that her wrath was directed incorrectly.

She snarled and lashed out with her left hand, clouting the white mask from my face and sending it careening across the lair. It landed on the floor, shattering upon impact. As she moved to clobber me again, I grasped her left wrist, detaining it fiercely with agonizing determination.

"Stop," I implored in a low begging voice. Nasrin tore her hands from my grasp and beat furiously at my chest, screaming and wailing loudly as the reality of her torture became a palpable nightmare.

Mutely, I endured the blows, my hands falling at my side. I looked down at her with grief-stricken pity; my eyes watered. Her pain was a terrible thing to witness and I thought about all the tribulations we had endured as husband and wife.

All at once, a terrible revelation struck me. Nasrin was now without any guise or clothing on her; she was simply herself, and nothing was there to conceal anything anymore. She was stripped of all barriers, masks, and veils, left to stand defenseless in her own flesh. This tortured, battered girl who struck me, weeping in sorrow, was my _wife_. I had always used the term loosely to describe our bond; but now, it seemed, all the responsibilities that title entailed reminded me of just how casually I had used it.

As a wife, it was her duty to love me, help me, and support me no matter what the circumstances. Hadn't she done just that until I frightened her away?

And as a husband, it was my job to make her comfortable, to treasure her, and _above all_: to love her with all that I was and to protect her. I . . . who was meant to ease the pain of her already plagued life . . . had failed her terribly. And now she was here, wailing in torment and beating at me, doing anything to quell the anguish she was haunted by.

_I had failed her . . ._

After a few moments, her blows weakened and she panted, winded and defeated by her own anger. I wrapped my arms around her, clutching her to my chest. "Stop, please my Nasrin . . . stop," I whispered.

She continued to cry, and the skin that had been scraped raw bled all over my white shirt. "No, please let me go. Don't touch me; don't even look at me. I'm dirty, I need to clean myself."

"Look, Nasrin, look," I cooed, grabbing her hand and tracing it down to her waist. She gasped and tensed as she felt smooth wooden beads meet her touch.

"What is this?" she asked. "Was it all just a dream? A bad dream?"

I gently rested my head on her shoulder and sighed. "If only it was, my dear. These aren't the ones you wore when you came to me."

"Then, why are they on me? Whose are they? It doesn't make sense." She stumbled about and I knew she was feeling faint.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I made them for you, because in my eyes, you have never known the touch of a man."

"But didn't you say-"

"You know the touch of a beast, Nasrin. A man is quite different . . . he would treasure and savor every inch of you. You told me that your chastity beads would be removed when _I_ slept with you. Since I have not, you will wear them . . ." I paused, hearing her sob against me. "Nasrin, I'm sorry."

Nasrin shook her head and pushed me away, covering her quivering body with her arms. "It doesn't matter . . . the fact remains . . . I have no choice but to pledge myself to _him_; and that isn't fair! It isn't fair because from the moment you kissed my head I _knew_ . . . I just _knew_!"

"What did you know, Nasrin?"

Nasrin put her hands on either side of my face, only allowing a moment for her fingers to navigate across my skin. Is it possible for such an innocent caress to ignite a raging flame within you?

"That it was you . . . and that it would always be you no matter what. When you kissed my head, Erik, I knew that I was going to love you for the rest of my life. Wherever you would go in life, and whatever you would do . . . I would have followed you like a lost dog . . . because . . . because you were the first person to ever show me such compassion."

I felt my eyes water, not for her proclamation . . . but for the utter agony of knowing how she felt, and how helpless she was to fight it.

"But it isn't fair," she whimpered, clutching tightly to my white shirt and nuzzling her soaked head into the base of my neck; I shivered. "Now . . . the only thing . . . the only person I ever wanted must be cast aside. Since it was Jean who removed my chastity beads . . . I . . . It is my duty . . . to . . . stay with _him_." She slid from my body and fell on her knees, the water lapping up over her breasts.

My face darkened into a look twisted with loathing. "I murdered him with my own hands when I came for you. I couldn't allow him to continue living, doing what he had done."

"Erik . . . he wasn't gentle, the act wasn't like I imagined it would be. He didn't even remove his clothing. It was so . . . degrading. I can't . . . I don't want . . . to feel that way ever again," Nasrin admitted sadly, tears still blooming from her eyes.

"Nasrin, I have never been with a woman; I am not experienced in that way. But, perhaps . . . if you would allow me to later . . . I could take you slowly. I wouldn't hurt you . . . and I think . . . I could fulfill you," I hesitantly murmured, helping her to her feet. I looked down at her body, which shone with lake water. A stirring deep inside of me began to grow stronger and I suppressed the carnal need to take her as quickly as possible. "I know you don't feel this way because of what happened, but your body, no matter what _he_ did to it, is still just as beautiful as when I saw you dancing in Christine's room all those months ago." The fact that I meant every word made it far more satisfying to say.

Nasrin looked up at me, and I knew she fought back a torrent of tears. "I can't Erik. I can never allow any man to touch me again. I want to . . . but I wouldn't be able to satisfy you . . . I would tense, memories would consume. I'm useless, my worth reduced to less than dry soil. I'm sorry Erik . . . it's all my fault this happened. If I hadn't so foolishly let him come close to me . . . I'd be here with you, loving you shamelessly. Not anymore; I destroyed a future for both of us."

_Don't say that, my love . . ._

I cupped my hands under her chin, caressing her soft jaw line that was slippery with tears. She looked up at me, her face contorted with shame. Tearing herself from my grasp, she turned away from me, hiding her face in her hands.

"Only if you allow yourself to believe that is our future truly lost." My voice was barely audible. I reached out hesitantly, fearing to startle her. My fingers barely grazed her shoulder and I felt the twisted mess of my heart wrench as she tensed, gasping in fright. I immediately withdrew.

Nasrin whipped around, grabbed my hand, and pressed it to her face, whimpering as I took it upon myself to gently fondle her cheek. Confusion soon faded; she was _conditioning_ herself to my touch. I eagerly caressed her face, feeling as though I didn't want to frighten her away, but that she still needed to feel the passion in my touch.

"Let me get you my cloak; you're freezing." I left her shivering in the lake water and grabbed my long black cloak, flung in carelessness across the floor. I slung it over her shoulders and rubbed my hands over the coarse cloth. "Come now, get out of the water." I led her from the lake and handed her original outfit to her. She turned away from me and clothed herself. When she looked back at me, she found me grimacing slightly at my bloodied shirt.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. She strode over to me and helped me remove the blood-stained shirt. She walked behind me and began in vain to scrub it clean with a cloth and some soap. "It won't come out."

"It's all right," I replied monotonously. She turned around and faced me; the mirror reflected our positions. My back was still to her, and across my back I knew she saw jagged scars striped over my flesh, marring the otherwise unblemished, pale skin around it.

"They're from the gypsy fair," I muttered. "Scars never really heal, Nasrin. However those wounds do close, and eventually the pain quells." I faced her, the shadows playing dramatically across our sallow faces. "Will you allow me to help you close your wounds?"

Tears cascaded down Nasrin's already tear stained face. She bent down and picked up one of her original chastity beads, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger.

"You don't want a used creature like me," she said.

"How do you suddenly know what I want?" I challenged, my tone far from gentle. Menacingly, I roared, "I spent days on those chastity beads for you! My hands . . . Nasrin look at my God damn hands and tell me that you think you know what I want!" I held out my hands so Nasrin could see the blood seeping through the bandages.

The bead rolled from her fingers and bounced on the floor. She took a tentative step towards me and I prayed that she understood.

I walked over to her and circled behind her, placing one of my hands on her cheek, the other on the side of her neck. "Nasrin," I whispered in her ear. "Do I look like the type of man who would shun you because you were forced and beaten into submission by other men?"

"I don't know," she answered breathlessly, and I knew she was quickly fading into my arms. _Just a little bit longer . . . Then you shall understand love._

My hands peeled away the cloak and left her skin to the soft caress of my hand. My fingers moved along her skin gently, and I felt her tense muscles relax under my touch.

"And how would you know this?" Nasrin asked in a daze.

I paused. "Do you think I have not dreamt of such things? It's true, no woman has ever in reality been able to withstand my touch-"

"No one . . . save for me," she murmured.

"But you will not now," I pointed out.

"That is because of what happened to me."

"Nevertheless. You are my wife, Nasrin; the daroga presented you to _me_. Though men have had their way with you, _I_ want you to have _your_ way."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What is it you want at this moment? This exact point in time?"

She wept, and an internal conflict undoubtedly raged within her. Her hand clasped tightly to my hand, which lay chastely on her chest. "You."

_Yes . . ._

I caressed her cheek, urging her face closer to mine. "Then tell me you want me."

"I want you," she whispered in a choked sob.

"And what do you want of me?" I urged, my voice a low, feral snarl fabricated of constrained fervor.

"I want you to . . . to . . ."

"To what, Fire Rose?" My hands eagerly traced the slender curves of her neck and shoulders.

"To show me . . . what love means. But that can never-" She was silenced by my kiss. I pressed my lips against hers brusquely, my eyes rolled back and closing. I had never wanted a woman so badly.

"No, we shouldn't . . . we can't . . ." Nasrin murmured, pulling away. "I'm too weak. Look at me." She spread her arms. Her normal turquoise outfit that usually hugged her curves hung haphazardly over her malnourished limbs. Her straps fell around her arms and her breasts no longer filled the garment while her skirt was hanging dangerously low over her right hip, exposing the protruding pelvis bone and casting a shadow over the skin beside it.

"Even with the food you need more," I said. "That's quite all right. Come now, I have some rations over there."

Nasrin tried to walk, but staggered and her legs gave way beneath her. I caught her in my arms, fighting the almost unbearable urge to kiss her. I simply reduced my raging urges to gently placing my hand on her cheek. She nuzzled into me and I felt my heart pound.

"You're tired, you must rest for now. Come, I'll bring you to the bed. I will sleep on the floor." I pressed my hand against the small of her back and began to guide her towards the bed.

"Wait," Nasrin murmured, stepping in front of me and pressing her hands against my chest. What now? She looked up at me, flushing as she met my gaze of confusion.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Please . . . please don't leave me alone tonight," she pleaded, tears streaming from her eyes. She dug her nails into the muscle of my chest.

"You . . . you can't possibly want me to . . . you just said . . ." I breathed.

Nasrin shook her head. "No, I cannot, not this early. But I just need you beside me; I need to feel the heat of your body . . . I need to feel protected."

I cupped my hands under her chin and kissed her forehead. "Of course Nasrin. If that is what you wish." I watched her slide into the bed, kicking her feet under the covers and nuzzling into the pillow. Smiling, I slid in beside her and embraced her gently, feeling a swell rise in my heart as she pressed her head against my chest.

I lowered my head against hers and closed my eyes. I wasn't tired, but I wanted to rest with her snuggling against me, knowing it was me beside her. Suddenly, I heard her voice, tremulous and longing.

"Erik? I don't mean to ask so much of you, but will you do for me one more thing?"

"Certainly my dear. You have but to ask."

"Could you sing to me? Anything . . . I just need to hear your voice while I rest. It's . . . a way for me to distinguish between you and . . . him."

I nuzzled into her head, my lips brushing her scarred scalp. "_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses, helpless to resist the notes I write. For I compose the music of the night . . ._"

Nasrin raised her hand, allowing her fingers to brush affectionately against my lips. The contact sent a tingling through my body and I pressed against her fingers, singing against her skin.

As I sang, she fell into a deep slumber. However, just before, she craned her neck and whispered in my ear, "Erik . . . I love you."

I looked down at her, wanting to express the same emotion. But she had already succumbed to sleep and her ears no longer heard what I had to say. Smiling, I nuzzled against her.

"You'll know it soon enough."

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**Natsuki**: XD! Yes! For once, not Raoul, LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: Surely, another hug, coming right up! ERIK!

Erik: Oh all right! (hugs tightly)

Shade: YAY! OK, thanks for the review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: LOL, everyone said that. As you can read, Erik kinda does. O.o;; Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: Oh, I feel honored! Thank you! XD! Love your death ideas. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Bananas in Pajamas**: I know. Very sad. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**littledarkone**: She lives, don't worry! XD! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**naomipoe**: One of the reasons for the M rating. Hardly the only reason though. OH thank you so much! Will have to check it out when I get back! (is excited and honored) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Thanks for the doll! So yay! (gives tissues) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: XD! So amusing, Sunbeam! And thank you for serenading me on such an occasion. LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: YAY! Erik had a spirit helper! And of course I'll let Nasrin live! Silly! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: I know. (gives tissues) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ya-girl123**: I already talked about your review in your e-mail. XD! But gotta reiterate how like me you think. And how awesomely odd that is, LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: It's fine. I know how stressful that stuff can be. Sorry if the 'r' scene disturbed you. But thank you for your compliment. (is flattered) And Nasrin and Erik will go on their trip after chapter 28 (wink) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: You'll know when I end it, LOL. There'll be an author's note at the end. I think Erik beat you to the beating though, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: LOL, thanks! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Assyn**: (gives tissues) I know, I know. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**The Psychotic One**: It's ok. XD! I agree! Thank you so much! (is flattered again) And you're welcome for Nasrin hitting the fop and the . . . Christine. (likes to keep her reviews PG) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: XD! I know Vi, I know. And Nasrin appreciates your hug, especially now that she is awake. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Poppiesnroses**: LOL, love your suffix changes. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: I know, she really can't. XD! The boat oar part was popular; I'm glad I had it in there, lol. The break cometh soon. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: Surely, take Erik for Saturday. It'd be his pleasure. (gives Erik wrapped in a potato sack) XD! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: Just a question, does your name have anything to do with the new movie, Corpse Bride? It's really cool. XD! Jean had to die, though I'm sure he appreciates your need to kill him. (nods) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jessie**: Um . . . the story isn't finished! Please don't leave! LOL! I wouldn't leave off a story like that! 'Tisn't in my nature! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	28. Sedating the Monster and the Beast

**Shade: Hello guys, I'm back! Guess what? A two week vacation ahead of me now. I will have internet access though, so I might be able to update from there, m'kay? And this is the chapter mostly all of you have waited for (cough cough) Dragon-mage16 (cough cough). JK! You know what I mean when I say STRONG sexual content. I'm warning you now, it's graphic. But tasteful in my opinion. K, have fun! I know you will. (wink)**

"_Silently the senses_

_Abandon their defenses . . ._" –Music of the Night

Chapter 28: Sedating the Monster and the Beast

Part One: The Black Demon

On a morning not too long after my true awakening, I was hounded by a black demon in my sleep. It had taken the shape of Erik, which further deepened the agony; nothing could ever hurt me more than the veracity that I had decimated our only chance at happiness. I was completely to blame; if I hadn't worked so hard for ignorant, meaningless revenge, I wouldn't be hurting now. I would most likely be tangled in the sheets of Erik's bed, my body unscarred but for my head and my old self, the me Erik had fallen for, wouldn't be torn and strewn to the wind in frayed, tattered ends. The old me wouldn't be dead.

I rolled out of bed one morning and landed softly on the floor. I turned to look at Erik, who had slept dutifully beside me every night since I had implored it of him. He was deceptively peaceful, though I knew a war raged within him every day. I knew in a glance that he longed to show me the true art of lovemaking. His bodily desires were extremely strong, but his dexterity would never allow him to make such an abrupt advance when he knew how scarred a creature I had become.

I had pretended to be blind to it; to not see the pain in his eyes when I resisted a gentle embrace, to ignore the longing in his gaze when he looked at me quickly from across the room.

_Your fault he suffers . . . your fault he's in pain! Your fault, your fault . . ._

_Stop it,_ I would plead. _Stop and leave me alone. Please!_

_Your fault, your fault, YOUR FAULT!_

_STOP!_

_You don't deserve anything from him! You deserve to suffer! Eternal pain for the vain Fire Rose who was blinded by her own narcissistic ways!_

The voice would never leave my head; it knew what I refused to admit. I was a failure as a lover and as a wife and I wasn't worthy of cleaning Erik's feet.

_Worthless beast . . ._ the demon would taunt in Erik's voice. All I could do was weep.

Crying had become a black disease on my persona. Before, it was below me to weep in public, and I bottled my sorrow and converted it to anger and darkness instead. I would have rather killed than be seen with tears in my eyes. And now, now everything made me weep, for everything I had so yearned for and treasured had shattered before me, leaving me with nothing but the hollow shell of my body. I had never known anything that could even scathe my pride, let alone demolish it completely. My ignorance was my Achilles' heel. And the arrow that had slain Achilles quickly still refused to take my life. The poison of depression works slowly, I realized disdainfully.

I walked silently from Erik's room, not wanting to look back and see him lying there in contentment, dreaming of what I could never give to him. The candles' warm glow bathed me and I was immediately soothed by their gentle caress.

_Worthless beast . . . I will bet you cannot even dance anymore. Can you, Fire Rose? Can you impersonate the beauty you were, or have you become too much of a wretch to remember?_

I paused. Dancing had always been a solace for me. It provided me with my own world, fabricated of an alluring melody and the beat of a drum that matched my heart. Perhaps it could assist me, and supply me with a much needed haven.

I walked to the most level and cleared out part of the lair and wished myself to remember my favorite tune. It was the tune I had danced to on my first day above in the Opera. It was the first time I saw Erik want me. Such beauty could save me from the pits of despair. I just had to remember.

Slowly, I brought my hands above my head and began to move my hips. I could feel the drums beat in my ears and I slipped easily into the routine. However, I remained cognizant of my surroundings. I was not whisked off to the world of song I had so lovingly created as an escape from the fangs or reality. It was gone . . . my dancing heart was gone . . .

_You cannot! See, Fire Rose? You cannot impersonate your old beauty! You are nothing now but a wanton whore! A whore is that which once was the most desirable virgin in the world!_

I crashed into the desk as my steps became out of sync. I cursed vehemently under my breath and I stumbled on my feet. The rhythm began to blur in my head and I lost all sense of the melody as it rose to a cacophony that I could no longer bear.

_The greatest talent can no longer dance! What demonic victory is this?_ The voice jeered tauntingly and my senses began to dull. I knew I was going to faint soon. In desperation to keep going, I grabbed a knife and sliced my palms open, sending a shock of scorching pain to my lethargic nerves. I saw the blood surge from the wounds and onto my fingertips. For a reason I didn't know, I smeared the blood across my cheeks like fingers of war paint. The stench of my blood rose up and clouded my head; fainting was an undesirable feeling. I collapsed back, feeling my body go rigid and I crashed into a candelabrum, sending it and myself careening backwards into the lake. There was a clang of metal and a splash as dots danced across my vision. I remained awake as I sank into the lake; I would drown. It would be an accident. Erik deserved someone who could satisfy him in every way. I could not; ergo there was no reason why my existence should hurt him anymore.

"Nasrin!" I heard Erik cry as he undoubtedly realized I was not beside him. What a foolish man. Didn't he see that what I was doing was for his own good? My nose and mouth finally submerged and I awaited my final moments with abnormal composure.

Immediately, an arm surged in the water and fished me out. I reluctantly breathed in air as I was firmly crushed in an embrace. Erik's breathing was very ragged and his breath was choked with horrible sobs.

"What happened? Are you all right? Where are you bleeding?" I had never heard him so panicked.

I sat up in his arms and reluctantly showed him my palms. He froze as he saw the gashes across my hand shimmer with fresh spurts of blood. Without hesitation, he tore his shirt and bound my wounds shut.

"Honestly, Nasrin. I'm going to run out of cloth to rip with your injuries." He said it curtly, and I knew a jest was not implied. His eyes found mine, and they were set as twin maelstroms in the middle of a raging inferno. "What . . . did you do this for?" He pointed to the newly bound wounds angrily, his face set in stark rage.

"I can't dance anymore . . . I cannot do anything to help me escape life." I clenched my fists with the same rage he showed, and I was strangely satisfied at the way my blood surged forward from the movement and immediately soaked the cloth through.

"So you do what? Try to drown yourself?" He grabbed my shoulders violently, squeezing my flesh with the rough vices of his hands.

I let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. "No, I tripped. When I fell into the water, I wanted to let myself die. I didn't want to cause you any more pain. You deserve everything I cannot give you."

"Are you saying that you cannot love me?" he asked, his head tilted as he shook back rage.

"I do love you; you fail to understand me. I-"

"Silence yourself right now!" he bellowed, shaking me once as if to jar common sense into my head. He grabbed my face and, rather roughly, yanked my face against his, just enough so I could see his jaw muscles work under his skin as he clenched his teeth. "If you love me, you would never consider forsaking your own life when you know how much I need you. The sexual aspect of our bond can wait. I only _need_ you beside me. Don't you _ever_ tell me that your death would liberate me! I had no idea you could be so ignorant! If I had awoken to find you lifeless in my lake . . . I would . . . I would have. . ." He gulped and I saw a regiment of tears storm the fronts of his eyes and breach the barricade of his lower lashes. His rough grip disappeared and was replaced by a gentle embrace in which he lowered his head to my shoulder and nuzzled into it like a small child, weeping like one as well.

At first, I was stoic, untouched by his notion. But then, from the corridors of my memory, I remembered all those times he had barricaded his emotions, robbed me of a sight of his soul. Now, he was nothing more than a sniveling child in my arms, showing me the extent of his fear, his sorrow, and his rage. I quickly wrapped my arms loosely around him and rested my head in the dip between his neck and shoulder. As I held him, I realized that I had never felt so selfish in my life. I was robbing a man of his happiness knowingly, and I would have done it because I thought _I _knew what was best for him.

"I'm sorry, my love. Please, angel, don't cry anymore. I won't leave you again." I found my own eyes burn with tears and I let myself cry into him.

He pulled away and chastely kissed me, reassuring me of his presence beside me as well. I put my hands on his face, stroking the well-defined features of his beautifully unorthodox face. He paused and examined my hands, finding the bandages were doing next to nothing soaked through.

"We must bind them correctly. It will hurt, but I guess the price for pain is more pain, no?" He removed the cloth and grabbed the black string with the needle. "I warn you, this will hurt quite a bit."

"I won't make a sound," I reassured, extending my hand to him.

"I wouldn't think any less of you if you did," he replied simply.

I gritted my teeth as I felt the needle pierce my flesh again and again, closing the space between the two pieces of skin. My eyes watered, but I remained silent but for a slight gasp every time he pulled skin together. My other hand fell to the ground and I gripped the grimy stone. He paused.

"Don't do that. Otherwise, that hand will get infected and that only means more pain." He paused as I lifted my hand up. "I never thought you a masochist, Nasrin. A sadist, yes, but I never thought it would be you succumbing to urges of self-annihilation. That was a path I myself abandoned long ago." He fell silent and resumed his work. The rest of the encounter was wordless, though the air was thick and rank with a palpable emotion I couldn't place.

"Done. You shouldn't move your hands for a while, otherwise the stitches will split." I moved my hands slightly and a searing pain ripped through them. I must have winced, for he repeated. "You shouldn't move your hands."

"Very well, shall we to bed again? I seem to be more lethargic of late." I stood on my feet and waited as he joined me and together, we walked back to bed, though neither of us could sleep peacefully. This time, when Erik embraced me and whispered soft words of comfort, the taunting voice of my depression was repelled, for my mind lay only with the real Erik, not on my past mistakes.

xXxXx

Part Two: The Sweetest Surrender

The weeks blurred together after that and I hardly knew how long it was that I remained below. After the whole dancing incident, I began to gain weight again. My physical recovery was going wonderfully. I even had the stitches removed from my hands; my mind and the horrid pictures it held had not even begun to convalesce. I didn't want . . . I couldn't tell Erik that every time he touched me, I fought the thundering urge to flee. It would break his heart, and I swore I would never hurt him ever again.

I loved him so badly that though he slept beside me, I dreamed of him every night, and each dream was of the same nature. In various ways, he would somehow convince me to cast aside my memories of my pain, and just like that, they were gone. Then I was always free to love him as I saw fit. I wanted him to be the one to have me in every way, love me, and free me of these black demons that inhabited my thoughts.

One morning, I slid myself from his arms and took off my clothing. I needed to bathe again, and I grabbed the body oil he purchased for me in town. I waded in the lake and dipped in, shivering at the coldness of the water. I missed my warm baths up at the Opera, but those days were over; I refused to go back above. Too many hateful memories wandered down the hallways; I wouldn't be able to take it.

I washed myself with the oil, and the sweet smell of jasmine wafted up to my nose. I had long since forsaken the scent of roses; that was the scent of seduction, of sexual desire, and of passion, none of which I embodied now, or would ever again. I had learned my lesson; the abrasions and scars on my torso, inner thighs, and femininity as well as the damage done to my mind were proof.

With Erik's bathing cloth, I freed my skin of the grotesque smell of sweat and grime, lavishing the oil on my tender skin. Once I was clean, I simply stood in the water, waist deep, and looked out towards the weaving path of the labyrinth, losing myself in dusty memories.

I felt hands grab my shoulders, big, rough hands, yet gentle. Nevertheless, I screamed in fright, my head whipping back. I began to shiver and Erik held up his hands in defeat, bowing his head and walking backwards out of the lake. I placed my right hand over my ravaged dignity and wrapped my left arm across my breasts before I turned around completely. I looked at him somberly, fiercely hating myself for crying out in alarm.

He cocked his eyebrows and looked down at me, as if confused. "Nasrin, why are you doing that?" He motioned to my hands, which covered me modestly.

"I'm dignifying myself," I muttered. "I'm covering myself." I both hated and adored the look of propriety on his face.

He walked up to me and for a moment, I felt uneasy. But the look of raw sorrow in his eyes kept me rooted in my spot. He stood an arms length from me and looked at me closer.

"Yes I know . . . so why are you doing that?" He reached for my hand, which lay across my breasts. "Nasrin, you were naked when I returned for you. There is no need to hide what has already been seen." I hesitantly backed away, not knowing quite how to properly proceed. His hand wrapped easily around my left wrist and he tugged at my arm gently. As I let it fall to my side, he took a step closer to me. The fear and the pain were fading slowly as I looked deep into those beautiful eyes that had both frightened me and comforted me in an instant.

He never broke eye contact as he grasped my right wrist and pulled it from my body. I began to quiver, feeling so hatefully vulnerable to a man. Erik paused for a moment before he joined my hands together and kissed them as he would a small child. He closed his eyes and as soon as the kiss ended, he looked up and met my gaze.

"You have nothing to fear anymore, Nasrin. I told you; I will protect you always." He embraced me gently, his hands barely brushing against my flesh, though I felt his urges to grasp me firmly.

He had suffered enough; he would not sacrifice his needs anymore for _my_ weakness. I couldn't let him; it wasn't fair. I decided then that I would give myself completely to him of my own volition, and no dark memories of mine would prevent his happiness.

I pressed my hands against his chest, kissing the large column of his neck. He gasped for a moment, obviously never expecting me to instigate any type of contact. His grip slightly tightened and I felt more heat envelope my senses. I fascinated myself with the way his skin tasted and felt under my lips. It was soft and tender, yet strong; his perspiration was both salty with sacrifice and sweet with the nectar of what I knew to be the essence of love.

He breathed out what sounded like a long hiss and I looked up in time to see his eyes roll back, a smile tugging on his lips. He moved up his hand and ran the tips of his fingers over my scalp. I had forgotten I had not put on my wig and I was immediately ashamed.

I paused, retreating from his arms quickly. His eyes snapped open and he looked at me, again perturbed.

"Wait, I need to get something. I'll be right back," I assured him. I walked over to his paintings of Christine, most of which were torn and tattered. There were the few remaining pictures of me, along with the shelf in which my old outfit lay. I hastily put on the clothes, eager to cover my shameful nakedness. Next to where my old outfit lay was my wig, untouched in months. I hastily yanked it over my distortion, positioning it to be as natural as possible. I walked over to him again, smiling glumly as I twirled a long curl with my finger.

"Why did you need to get this?" he asked me softly. He touched the façade, and the look of disdain in his eyes told me that he no longer saw its beauty.

"You just made the motion of running your fingers through my hair. It's understandable. You did with Christine; I thought you missed that and-"

Erik grabbed the wig and threw it angrily aside. I was completely in shock as I watched it fall and land softly over the shattered remains of his mask. Why did he remove that which he so desired?

"Why?" I whispered numbly, overcome by the power locked behind his bright blue eyes. I felt myself becoming weak beneath them.

"Nasrin, you are not Christine Daaé; you never were her in any way, and you never will be like her." Each syllable cut through me like a knife and I felt myself fall before him in submission, tears streaming from my eyes until my sight blurred.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to make you happy . . . I know I'm not Christine but I thought perhaps I could at least have some of what she does," I wailed loudly, clawing angrily at my monstrosity of a head. I wanted to rip my scalp off, tear away the scars and let new skin grow in its place, devoid of torment and repulsiveness.

He grabbed my hands and kneeled down to my height, smiling at me fondly. "You didn't let me finish, my little Fire Rose. Nasrin, I don't want you two to be the same."

"What?" I asked, now completely confused. What was it he desired of me?

"I don't want you to be like Christine, because it takes away your most beautifully ironic feature."

"Which is what?" I asked, eager for an answer.

He pulled me close, so close his heart beat was in my ear. And, with one hand on my left cheek, whispered into my right ear, "Yourself."

I knew at that moment that fate would not be denied again. We were meant to have each other, to surrender our beings to one another. Nothing, I realized, would ever change that. I looked up at Erik, expecting and yearning for him to show me how to give myself completely of my own will. Such desires as I felt would not be restrained for long.

But he did what I would never have expected to do after proclaiming something so passionate: he released me and stood up, moving to walk away.

In an instant, I grabbed his arm, digging my nails into his skin. _Oh no, my love. You aren't leaving now._

He paused, looking down at me with confusion. I was shaking as I pulled him down to my level again, clutching so tightly to him that I feared I would draw blood.

"What is it?" he asked me. "Oh God, Nasrin did I hurt you?" He stroked my face, wiping away the tears that spilled effortlessly from my eyes.

"No Erik, you didn't hurt me." I looked up and detached myself from his arm. I reached out, and touched his face, feeling my hands tingle against his flesh, both the marred and flawless, in anxious anticipation.

"What is it then?" He grabbed my wrist and planted a soft kiss on my palm.

"Erik, you said that you would help me close my wounds . . ."

"Of course, darling. Whatever it took." He massaged my palm with his thumb. He saw me clearly hesitate, and his expression became severe.

"I . . . what he did to me . . . I don't need to explain how it affected me." He shook his head mutely. "I need you to . . ." I bit my lip.

"What?" he asked, looking as though he feared and yearned the inevitable answer.

"I need you to make me feel as though I am loved and cherished. You understand . . . I haven't felt that way in a while. I need you to tell me that you love me in a language only spoken by lovers."

Erik's eyebrows knitted together and he hesitated; he swallowed with effort before speaking. "You recoil from even the slightest contact. I would fear hurting you as I am . . . inexperienced in such physical matters."

"You won't hurt me," I reassured, on the brink of pleading. "If I tense, just whisper to me. I need you, Erik."

"Why?"

"Because, I told you. I would only love you. I want a family with you." Decimating the barricade I had erected in my mind, tears streamed down my face and I choked on my words. "Later on in life I want to walk through the streets of town holding a child in my arms; a child of our blood. That will never come to pass if I still carry wounds as deep as this. I need you to help me forget." I closed my eyes, allowing two more tears to trace the outlines of my face.

There was thick silence that followed and I was about to give up hope, thinking he would decline, saying it was beyond him to touch me or that my scars were too grotesque. Soon after, his hand wiped away my tears, his fingers gently caressing my lips. I shivered as he kissed my hand, moving up my arm and planting chaste, gentle kisses along my skin. He reached my shoulder, his lips still moving, pressing against my neck and my jaw, stopping at the beginning of my lips. I pulled away for a second, a thought searing in my mind.

"I don't want you to do this just for pity's sake. I want you to do this because you love and cherish me."

"Yes, I know."

"So if you don't, it would be best to-"

"I want to do this because I want to make you feel as beautiful as you are," he mumbled, his lips brushing against mine.

"Oh, so-"

He had grown restless and silenced me with the most compassionate kiss I had ever felt. His arms moved around my back and he touched my skin gently. I tensed in his arms, but not in fright. I loved the feeling of his hands against my flesh. I wanted that tingling to be everywhere; I wanted him to know my body the way I wanted to know his.

Slowly my mouth opened up to his, allowing his tongue to surge in my mouth. I felt my senses begin to sharpen as his kisses deepened and his groans became louder. I placed my hands on his chest, almost smiling as he clutched me to him, fighting against his urges to quicken the sensations.

Our kisses had lost their chastity and we had since been devouring each other's lips, breathing against one another and allowing small moans of contentment to pass between us.

I shrank away slightly and smiled at him, pulling him against me as I fell gracefully on my back. I wanted to feel him lay on me, feel his weight on me, his heart on mine. Instead, he hovered over me, his eyebrows cocked.

"Do you think I would have you on the ground? Come, let me carry you to our bed."

_Our _bed . . . Yes . . . please do. He helped me up, and I began to walk slowly over to it. However, he gathered me up in his arms, and I felt myself clinging to his undershirt. I did not want to laugh and spoil the air of thick desire that loomed over us like rain clouds ready to burst.

Each step rocked me back and forth, as if I were being lulled to sleep. I rested my head against his, nibbling on his ear and smiling as he gasped slightly.

When we reached the side of the bed, he set me down and we both stood there, very much like nervous children, and neither of us advanced. Erik's hands had fallen to his side and his eyes made every effort to avoid mine.

_Time to take the leap, Nasrin . . . at long last._

I walked over to him, placing my hands on his chest and kissing his neck and chest, tasting the sweet flavor of his skin. I suckled on the pale skin, my teeth slowly moving across each inch of it until it blushed under me. His flesh was growing warmer than I had ever imagined it could and I felt my heart soar as he grabbed my shoulders, moving down my arms and waist, his breath becoming ragged. My hands slid under his shirt, navigating blindly over the ridges of his muscles, his bones, and the thin patches of fine hair. I softly caressed the marred flesh the gypsies had left him and he moaned slightly. I kissed his chest and felt his heart beat against my lips.

_I wanted him so much . . ._

His muscles tensed under my wandering hands and my fingers danced down his chest to his pelvis, where I stopped, freezing for a moment. My gaze found Erik; his eyes were closed and his head craned back, his breathing deep and full.

I grabbed his shirt by the collar and spread it apart, watching the diaphanous fabric slide gently from his shoulders and fall delicately onto the floor. His grip on me tightened while his head snapped up, capturing my lips in another kiss. His hand pressed against the back of my head as his lips overcame mine, his tongue pulsing in and out of my mouth until I moaned and I wrapped my arms around his back, digging my nails into the flesh. He hissed into my mouth, his hands moving down my back, and I whimpered as his searing flesh pressed against my spine. He began to fervently kiss my neck, nuzzling into me as his tongue and lips probed and covered every inch of its length in maddening indolence. He moaned as I grabbed his head, gasping from the touch of his tongue. When his hands reached the base of my back, he paused and he began to pull away, doubting himself.

I growled and lashed out my own tongue, leaving it to caress his teeth while my hands locked firmly on his waist. A terribly fierce desire caused a fire to ignite within me. A need to have him plunge inside of me and fill me completely caused twinges of pain that bordered on unbearable pleasure. And he wanted to shy away? Oh no, darling.

_You will not doubt yourself when I want you so badly. I will make your uncertainties leave any way I can._

I brought his head against mine and kissed his face again and again, the unblemished and the scorned, moaning. I avoided kissing his lips, but made sure my tongue briefly caressed each part of his face as I kissed it.

His hands moved up my back, tantalizing my senses as he refused my lips the desire to join with his. My nails dug into his flesh and I couldn't help as slight moans of contentment escaped constantly from my mouth. It seemed to encourage him, however, for he gave a reassuring grunt that mimicked my pleasure.

Finally, he crushed his lips against mine as he slid down the shoulder straps to my top, the process purposefully moving at an achingly slow pace. I nuzzled against him as our tongues danced, urging him to rid me of such useless possessions as clothing. Breaking contact with my lips, he moved slowly down, his burning breath inducing gooseflesh. He kissed and lavished the area between my breasts and I bit my own lip, feeling ashamed, as I knew the peaks of my breasts stood in rapt attention and yearned to feel his ravishing mouth over them.

In a moment, he moved behind me and smiled. I was confused for a moment, but then I saw the mirrors that were in front of us. Immediately, I looked down, not wanting to see what had become of my body. I whimpered, fighting to keep myself from looking into my four reflections and seeing what horrors it had endured.

Erik's arms wrapped around my front; his touch was maddeningly light. His head was bowed as he planted wet, passionate kisses along my shoulders. I moved to turn around to him, but he stopped me and raised his head, looking at our reflection fondly.

"No, no. I want you to see something."

I shook my head, refusing to look at the length of my undoubtedly scarred body. I hid my face in his neck, losing myself in the smell of tantalizing spices that further added my desire to close my eyes. His voice came again, more demanding this time. "No. Look at us Nasrin. Look at what a beautiful picture we make."

I reluctantly opened my eyes and turned around to face my demons. The scars were indeed visible, and they striped across my chest in the same way Erik's lash scars did; what was more amusing to me was the fact that I looked completely overcome, and my eyes were cloudy as his eyes met mine. My deep breath filled my lungs and he obviously knew I enjoyed every simple sensation he gave me.

His fingers crept mischievously down from my shoulders, sneaking under the fabric of my top and moving until he fondled the clasp, knowing full well that my body screamed for a quick and passionate joining. Although, knowing him, he planned to torture me to the blink of madness until I wept; and in the end I knew that I would love that just as well. Slowly, he fiddled with it until it snapped and I saw the fabric loosen significantly around my front. His hands pressed gently against my yearning flesh, sliding the jeweled top from my back and I squirmed my arms out of it. Hissing, he kissed my neck, lavishing the already sensitive flesh with his tongue until I gasped and fell back against him, my eyes rolling back as he threw aside the garment carelessly.

"Putting on your clothes after bathing was the most superfluous thing you have done in a while, darling," he mumbled passionately in my ear. "However, your scent is still fresh from it, and it is unbearably intoxicating." His hands snaked around my front and his fingers dancing across my shaking chest. There was no way of preventing the countless moans that I made as his rough hands cupped my breasts, his touch barely registering in my nerves, yet the heat of his flesh intensely beating at my own burning skin.

"Erik . . . please . . ." I had no idea why I said that; I had no idea what I wanted except for more. Always more.

"Tell me what you want, Nasrin, and I will give it to you." His voice sent chills throughout my already overwhelmed body. "Tell me what you want."

My breath caught in my throat and I felt his glorious heartbeat against my back. I wanted his hands so badly to press against me, to smother me completely in insurmountable passion. I let my head fall against his shoulder and he gently pinched the peak of my breast. I jumped slightly at the carnal sensation that bloomed within me and I growled, biting his neck playfully and suckling on the sweet flesh furiously.

He smirked and I raised my head to him, noticing that his eyes were not cloudy as I saw mine to be. Rather, they were sharp and cognizant, and if I hadn't known of his gentleness, I would have been very frightened.

"Look at yourself in the mirror again, darling." I did, and saw the same reflection. Only this time, I looked far more submissive and my ragged breath and shaking legs told me that I pined for a pleasure he alone could give me. "Watch yourself, Nasrin. Look how you react to even the slightest touch of my hand." He began to stroke my breasts, his scorching breath further intensifying a wicked need in my gut as a serpent of pleasure twisted itself around my insides, each tightening a pleasantly painful sensation. I watched as my chest rose and fell in painful intimacy and I shifted from foot to foot.

In a moment, he blocked out the glass and stepped in front of me. I saw the thin patch of hair on his chest sparkle with sweat in the candlelight. I had believed that I would not enjoy the look or feel of this hair; however, its presence was most stimulating as it accented his own arousal by gleaming with his perspiration. I fell into his arms, wanting him to surround me in something as beautiful as him. As my hands moved down his torso, I slathered his chest with wet sucking kisses and his groans could only encourage me. I latched firmly on his nipple, moving my tongue around in provocative circles, teasing the nerves beneath; I was thankful for the knowledge of the man's arousal, for nothing was more stimulating than hearing him moaning from the pleasure I gave. As I moved up, I heard him snicker again and this time, I felt as though something beautifully unexplored laid in store.

While his one hand held fast to my back, his other hand began another slow journey down my body, fondling the area of my stomach under which the knot tightened. He pressed his cheek against mine as his right hand moved through the slit of my skirt and the pads of his fingers caressed the scars on the inside of my thigh. My erratic breath had taken the form of ragged gasps as the areas once stricken with anguish now felt the heat of intense, yet gentle pleasure.

It was embarrassing to say, and I had hoped Erik wouldn't be disgusted, but I felt strangely wet between my legs. I had noticed it as soon as he began his beautifully wicked administrations to my body. His fingers were drawing closer to it and I prayed he wouldn't recoil, too revolted to continue. I froze as his hand slowly dared to press against my budding womanhood and a sensation like nothing I had ever felt before caused me to convulse and crush my body against his farther. I gripped his shoulders and shook in his arms as his fingers probed deeper into me, both discovering and claiming me in the same moment. My whole body burned for him, and I let him know with every gasp, every moan, and every shiver.

The muttering of his name became an erotic prayer and when he kissed me this time, it was soft and sweet, though we shook from constraint. He took my bottom lip between his lips and massaged it gently, triggering warm sensations with each movement.

"Erik . . . please . . ." He snickered and brought his hand up to caress my face while still mercilessly exploring my inner depths with the other.

"Please what?" he remarked slyly, his breathing as ragged as mine. His fingers began to thrust inside of me and my body unconsciously moved against them. His thumb pressed against the sensitive bud and he began to rub it slowly to match the movements of his fingers. Stars danced in front of my eyes and my moans began to crescendo.

"Take me . . . oh Allah just take me." I felt like a wanton whore saying that, but I meant every syllable. I craved the sensations that would entail his arousal as opposed to his fingers driving into me.

Surprisingly, he pulled away completely and the air became cold and unfamiliar around me. I hated the way it felt.

"I . . . I can't yet. We're not even . . . in bed," he panted as he placed his hands on my bottom and pulled my longing body against him.

I gasped as I felt a bulge against my lower stomach, a bulge that wasn't quite so prominent before. Looking down, I found that something strained furiously against the fabric of his trousers. I hesitantly unbuckled his pants, my curiosity overpowering me. He tensed as I undid the last hindrance that kept our bodies apart. His trousers fell silently to the ground, pooling at his ankles.

_Oh my . . ._

I gaped. I had never seen a real naked man before; my only education was fabricated of pictures, flat, unreal pictures. Did I really cause such a passionate reaction? I . . . could my body possibly . . ?

"What is it, my Nasrin?" he asked, his lips against the top of my head. His breathing was shallow as I looked up at him, kissing him wordlessly, savoring his moist lips.

"Darling . . . I don't think my body could possibly accommodate-"

He laughed, a nervous, harsh sound. "Of course it can, my dear! You, as a female, were born to accommodate. To do it somewhat comfortably, however, you must be made to fit."

_Made to accommodate . . . that implies force . . . I don't think force would have the desired effect on me, my love._

"How?" I asked hesitantly.

He shifted from one foot to another, and he began to shake again. "I . . . I have already, erm . . . begun the process." He showed me the wetness on his hand that I knew belonged to me as he moved to push me onto the bed.

However, he would not be denied the joyous pleasures I had so gluttonously received and my curiosity had only increased at the sight of his manhood. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed gently back.

"No wait," I muttered, standing him up again. "Wait, I want to . . ." I blushed coyly, looking down at his arousal. "May I?" My eyes met his; he was flushed bright crimson and he looked extremely uneasy.

"If . . . if you wanted . . . I won't . . . protest." He stammered and inched closer to me.

I looked down at . . . it. My hands reached out, and I hesitated at first, feeling my nerves beat at the fire that raged within me. However, I simply smiled and touched it gently with one finger. I was amazed at the softness of the skin, and upon my caress, the steel-infused muscles beneath his skin tightened immediately. It was a fascinating process. I would tease him with my touch, and his breath would shorten while his muscles tightened spasmodically. It was a beautiful sequence and I felt so wickedly powerful, being able to render such a profound man helpless against my hands. My touch became slightly more daring and he hissed and moaned, low and deep. My others fingers joined the first, moving slowly around him. I was in awe that the skin was so soft, so delicate, yet the structure itself was hard and swollen; I eagerly stepped closer to him. His breath sharpened and his moans grew louder and longer as I quickened my pace around him.

"Stop!" he bellowed and I thought I had hurt him. I leaped away from him, my hands retreating to my side. However he grabbed me around my back and pulled me to him, a burning radiance in his eyes. With delicate force he eased me onto the bed. I moved up to kiss him, but he stopped me.

"No, it is your turn." He kissed my neck hungrily, and his hardness pressed against my thighs. I felt the knot tighten inside of me and I wanted him to simply plunge into me, know that he and I were one in every way. However, his lips had just begun their journey. His lips lingered on my neck and I groaned. For a while, and he planted wet, sucking kisses along the length of it before sliding mischievously down, his lips kissing every inch of me they brushed. He kissed my breast, his lips on the peak while his tongue moved around in powerful circles. I bit my lip and moaned. He bit the sensitive flesh and I arched my back to him. More . . . my instincts screamed . . . more . . .

As if to answer my inner calling, Erik began suckling on it furiously until I felt I would burst. I held his head in place, wrapped my leg around his back and pulled him to me, moaning for him. Just when he released one, I felt as though he would relieve me. However, he slid slowly over and gave the same treatment to the other one; the torture grew worse as he continued his torturous play, and the knot grew tighter and tighter. I was at the point of almost screaming as my constant moaning of his names rose in a strangled crescendo.

_I hadn't dreamed it would be so . . . wonderful. So painfully wonderful._

His trek went down once more and his tongue moved purposefully over my skin, working around in my navel for a few moments, his hands cupped under my back and pulling my body against his lips. I had expected him to move back up, slowly claiming each part of my chest with his mouth. However, he moved down again, and I looked at him questioningly. He hesitated over the 'L' scar on my waist before kissing it as well, lavishing it with his tongue. My breath caught in my throat and I tightly gripped a chunk of his hair.

He quickly moved down, and before I could protest, he kissed the part of me that had been so brutally destroyed: the part I had never dreamed could ever feel pleasure. I clenched my teeth and gripped fast to the sheets, fighting screaming out his name as my head fell back against the pillow. I couldn't breathe as the knot reached the point of intense pain. Still he moved his tongue and lips against me, his own body shaking as he fought against his own release.

Suddenly, I felt it; I felt the knot begin to tighten to the point of breaking. I stopped breathing for a moment, my head sinking deep in the pillow. Erik's powerful tongue lashed out against the bundle of nerves in my femininity; the knot snapped in a huge explosion. I screamed as a rainbow of vibrant colors exploded before my eyes. I began to shake, though my mind felt separated from my body and my eyes closed as I panted. As I slowly regained myself, I felt him kiss up the center of my torso slowly. I knew he was unable to fathom the profound awakening he had given to me.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Erik's face hovering beautifully over mine, his bright blue eyes sparkling as I smiled weakly up at him. I pulled him down to me and kissed him with everything I was; I could taste myself in his mouth. I shivered as he opened my legs farther, fitting himself between my thighs and running his hands up and down my legs.

_Oh Allah, the knot was returning._

I looked up at him, waiting for him to finally join us, but he seemed to be torn between continuing our erotic foreplay or allowing us both to release together, binding us forever. I eagerly flipped him on his back and straddled him, smiling at the look of utter shock on his face. I laid down on him, slowly kissing his chest and moving downward. He began to shake again, his fists tight around the sheets, his knuckles snow-capped mountains. I growled against his flesh, biting gently on the skin I kissed and tasted.

Just as I reached the thin trail of hair below his navel, he grabbed me and pinned me right back where I was underneath him. I looked up at him, in shock at the haste of his movements. He was flushed scarlet, his face sweaty and a fire of nothing less than fervent determination in his eyes.

"Nasrin . . . I can't . . . restrain . . ." He panted and gasped while I obediently opened my legs. He fitted himself between my thighs and looked up at me one more time. I smiled at him and he slid slowly into me until he was completely enclosed. I arched my back, moaning his name as he moved over me, gripping tight to the sheets by my head.

Slowly, he began to move against me, beginning a beautiful rocking motion as old as time itself. He was undoubtedly nervous, but he slowly gained speed and confidence until he was thrusting hard and deep. The knot was tightening and the familiarity of it all was incredible. I looked up at him, amazed at how the muscles beneath his skin contorted with each thrust. As I gazed up at his face, I found that his head had fallen limp so that I could only see his mouth during his thrusts, which was hanging open as he panted in ragged breaths. Faster and faster he moved, and I felt as though I was quivering with unused energy. I fervidly kissed him, yearning for another release as his movements became sharper. By the time I drew away, our lips were bitten bloody.

No longer was I tortured by memories of Jean, for Erik moved differently than him. His power was the same, yet he remained gentle. I focused on nothing more than the man above me: my husband and my only love, driving himself deeper into me.

Suddenly he stopped above me, quivering and panting, moaning loudly. I could feel it; the time drew nearer. The inevitable was drawing tantalizingly close. He pulled himself out completely and I roared at him, hating him for ending our union prematurely. However, he reared back and drove himself into me one final time. He pulsated inside of me for a few eternity drawn moments before I shattered once again as he bellowed loudly, his last barricade of control crumbling. He filled me completely and I responded by sinking my teeth hard into his shoulder. Lovely tears blurred my sight. When I pulled away, I had drawn a small trickle of blood from his flesh. I began to cry, completely overcome with the beauty of what we had done.

"Oh God! Nasrin, I'm so sorry! I was too rough! I hurt you!" he cried breathlessly, bullets of sweat trickling from his hair. He looked crestfallen as I opened my eyes. His cheeks were still flushed and he fought collapsing on me.

"No! No, you didn't hurt me. I'm all right . . ." I paused to pant for a moment, running my fingers through his sweaty locks of hair; he nuzzled shakily into my touch. "You were so wonderful, Erik. I love you so much," I responded hoarsely, my legs still shaking intensely as I wept. I hung my head, feeling as though I was nothing more than a sniveling child. He wiped away my tears, pressing his forehead against mine. I clutched his body to mine, pressing my lips against the top of his head, wanting to bless him and absolve him from any past wrong doings. He rested his head on my heaving chest, his breath as erratic as mine.

"Here, be still," Erik muttered gutturally as he moved off me for a moment to grab something by his bedside. My eyes followed him, gleaming with curiosity. He held a small knife in his hands and raised it above me. I tensed and whimpered. _ What was he going to do? _His expression softened and he touched my chastity beads, his fingers running across the wood.

"Easy, my love. Didn't I tell you that I would never hurt you?" he cooed, and, with unsurpassed finesse and tact, he cut the string that held his chastity beads to my waist. I eased up and slid the string of beads from under me, feeling as though a lifetime of solitude, pain, and loneliness ended in that one swipe of a blade.

"Finish it," I implored softly, grabbing his hand with the knife. For a moment he looked confused. However, when he saw my hand guide his toward the 'L' scar, he understood.

"But Nasrin, I promised not to hurt you," he mumbled.

"If you leave this scar as an L, I will hurt every day for the rest of my life." I looked at him and he smiled; it was a beautiful sight. He lowered the knife to my flesh and gently pressed the blade down through it. There was distinct searing pain, and I felt blood ooze from the cut. Then, it was done, and all I felt was Erik's lips press against my new wound, which would scar to be forever a testament to the world that Erik held my heart and body.

He kissed me lovingly, pushing against me; his jaw muscles worked against mine and suddenly, I knew it. He smelled of blood, for his lips and shoulder still dribbled fresh drops of it. And the wooden chastity beads he had handled, their scent was fresh in his hands. I cried in his mouth; it had been him in my dream all along. Allah did truly work in mysterious ways. I responded to him, kissing him passionately, eager for much more than a kiss, but he shook with lethargy and collapsed on top of me, his face resting next to mine. He managed to roll off me and lay beside me as his head sunk into the pillow so that only his deformity was visible. How beautiful he was.

"Aren't . . . you glad . . . that I am . . . the romantic . . . you surmised?" he wheezed.

_Oh my only love . . . if you only knew how glad._

I smiled, seeing the tears dripping from his eyes as well. I snuggled up to him, pressing and molding my body against his. We were a perfect fit. I sighed and kissed his face affectionately. I tasted his salty tears, fabricated of the same happiness mine were.

"Yes, darling . . . I am."

Contented, and feeling Erik's arms wrap around me, I fell into the most beautiful of slumbers, knowing for once that I was Erik's wife in every way.

xXxXx

Part Three: The Sedating of the Monster and the Beast

**Erik's POV:**

I had never imagined . . . even in my wildest dreams that I would ever come to think of Nasrin as anything more than a pesky little girl. I would have scoffed if I saw myself now, holding her in my arms thus, without a stitch of clothing between us. I would have laughed if I knew that I would have risked death just to hold her again. I would have been ashamed if I knew that she had been the one to tear down my persona of heartlessness by a torrent of her own tears and pain . . . and her love . . . I could never forget that.

And yet, there was no shame now . . . and she lay safely in my arms, dreaming without a care, trusting the most horrid monster with her fragile self. However, last night, I had felt as though I was anything but a monster. Growing up hated and scorned, I never imagined that my touch could trigger anything other than pain. Nasrin had shown me that I was truly a man, and that I could cause and feel as much pleasure as any normal person. I was truly no different, and mutual love had been the only thing that could have shown me. The feeling of utter completion during our union was strikingly touching, and I found myself with tears as well; though Nasrin wept fully, for she had darker scars to erase. I could still hear her words of reassurance: _You were so wonderful Erik. I love you so much . . ._ Just those two sentences had sedated the monster in me forever, and I knew that I would pledge my heart and soul to that 'pesky little girl' forever.

I looked down at her snuggled up to me, her body housing an ethereal luminescence given off by the candles. What a beautiful woman she had become, I mused to myself.

Last night, halfway through our fervid joining, she had done something that took me by surprise. She had slipped from speaking French, and had reverted back to Farsi, her original tongue. I spoke Farsi, of course, with Nadir and I knew it myself, but I had never heard it spoken the way she had done it. The way her words had just simply poured from her tongue and took wing to caress my ears. Simply her speaking it beautified her native language.

I looked down at her again, unable to lessen the smile that stretched my face. An innocent smile twitched at the corners of her mouth and her eyes remained closed; she seemed to exude an aura of sweet serenity. I leaned down and kissed her eyes gently, feeling her eyelids twitch under the pressure. Fearing I had awakened her, I raised my head. Instead, she gripped tighter to me, sighing into my chest.

Next to me slept the woman who had caused me more anguish and anger than anyone before her. She had deceived me, seduced me, and tortured me in ways only a man could feel. Yet she had held in my time of tears, protected me in the face of death with her own life, and loved me unconditionally and completely, even in my most hateful moments.

And I . . .

I loved her . . .

By God . . . I loved her so much.

The Vicomte could take that _heathen _of an angel. I had my fair Nasrin . . . and I would not forsake her for any music in the world.

My words of love had burned inside of me from the moment she swung on the chandelier, almost losing her life to assist me, yet I found myself unable to express it for so long.

I touched her cheek, allowing my fingers to move slowly down her shoulder to her hands, which lay in chaste modesty over her breasts. My hands traced down her side, along the dipping curve of her waist. I felt pulsing desire begin to ache in my gut as I dwelled on the previous night.

The sounds she had made between religious mutterings of my name were by far the most erotic music I had ever heard. I wanted to have her make such a melody again. She had given me my first sensation of being inside a woman, to feel as though I had her in every way: body, mind, heart, and soul. She had touched me, and savored me in the same way I had savored her. When she bit me I had convulsed; her teeth had blurred together the sensations of pain and pleasure.

Overcome with my own memories, I kissed her, startling her at first to the point where she squealed in my mouth. I pulled away and the moment our eyes met, she smiled, knowing exactly why I had awakened her. I rolled her on her back and fitted myself between her legs.

"Once more," I said huskily.

To my surprise, Nasrin pushed me up, rolled me on my back and straddled me, a look of divine mischief in her eyes.

"Only once more?" she asked softly, digging her nails into the sheets, lying down and pulling herself up to me, her soft skin causing sensual friction between us. She kissed me, starting soft and sweet until all tenderness was gone and we were devouring each other's mouths. Her slender fingers traced around the small patches of hair on my chest.

She immediately pulled away, her beautiful blue-green eyes twinkling. "Now," she said, "you must make a deal with me."

"What type of deal?" I asked.

"You must promise me that right now, you will not touch me in any way. You will not kiss me, you will not give me any pleasure."

_What?_

"Why not?" I asked, rather offended. Did she regret what we had done?

"Because I insist on now being the time of how I please you. That was, after all, why I was brought here." She kissed my chest and looked back up at me, waiting my answer,

"But . . . don't you want to feel . . ."

"I will if you feel it. Promise?" She stroked my deformity.

"Only if you promise me that later, it will be you that is in this position," I insisted. Lovemaking was a union of bodies, each one feeling the same amount of pleasure and passion. What will this different encounter bring?

She smiled warmly, licking her lips and looking at me sideways, her eyes seductively calling to me. "All right. If that is truly what you want."

"Nasrin, I was denied any compassion from a woman for a long time. Now that I have you, I want to savor each inch of you." I ran my fingers over her head, my senses now enjoying the feeling of the uneven crevices in her scalp. She trembled and opened her eyes, and I could see the sparkle of love in her eyes that warmed me immediately. I would never grow tired of looking into those two sea born orbs.

"Very well, your touch is always welcome," she cooed, her lips curling into the smirk that made me weak inside. She moved off the bed for a moment and grabbed two silk red scarves, rubbing them on my chest. The cloth was arousingly smooth and I shivered. Surprisingly, she grabbed my wrist and pushed it back against the headboard, tying it into a tight knot. As I moved my arm, it tightened and I couldn't move it more than a few inches. She smiled at me.

"If I am to give you the pleasure you want, you cannot touch me. I can only ensure that with these scarves. Forgive me if you do not like them, but you will not be able to control yourself." My other wrist was tied to the headboard, leaving me sprawled out in a ridiculous display of susceptibility. I've always hated being vulnerable, not having complete control over my surroundings. How could she give me pleasure if I despised the position in which I was this helpless?

"Must you bind me?"

"Could you stand not touching me if I were to touch you right now?" she asked, her voice alluringly soft. She knew the answer; I didn't have to speak.

I was on the verge of making a jest when she tilted my head back, breathing against my neck before kissing it; it was not the same as last night. Last night was more uncertain, reserved, and nervous. This time, her lips moved confidently over the expanse of my neck, her breath sending chills up my spine. Such scorned flesh I never imagined could feel so blessed. She moved up and bit on my lower lip, her tongue brushing powerfully against the area under my lips. I felt a distinct twinge in my groin as unexpected pleasure bloomed intensely from that singular sensation. More . . . my body craved more. I strained against the bonds, wanting to hold her, but the scarves only tightened and I groaned in exasperation.

Her journey pulled her down over my chest, the dark gold of her skin gleaming divinely in the dim lights. Her mouth covered every part of it, showering it with her arousing touch and her provocative kisses that made my blood roar. She moved up again and I almost lost control. She sucked on my flat nipple, working her tongue around the edges. Such torture was both painful and wonderful at once. I had never known what such beautiful feelings could blossom from such love.

Just the prospect that I couldn't touch her made me want her even more. I wanted to pin her underneath me and love ever fiber of her being with my hands and mouth. I shivered as her body slid down even more, allowing most of my torso to bear the brunt of the cold climate in our home.

There was a pause and I noticed with silent hesitancy that no part of her touched me anymore. I was about to look down when I felt her kiss up the inside of my thighs, biting gently as the skin became softer, more sensitive. She kneaded her knuckles underneath my sex and the twinge grew to become an unbearable burn as my body reacted strongly to her movements. I strained against the bonds, my inability to reach her both increasing the pleasure and driving me mad.

Then, in the most stimulating movement, she slowly took me in her mouth. My arms fought hard against the scarves, but eventually, I gave in as I felt my blood surge tempestuously in my veins. Shaking, I clenched my teeth shut and moaned as my breath quickened.

_I can't touch her! I can't touch her!_ my mind bellowed as she moved her head against me the way I had against her the previous night; it was enough to make me lose all control and cut our union woefully short. Her fingers joined with her mouth, skating along my sex and under me, her grip preventing my release but intensifying the almost unbearable torture. She had complete control over my pleasure, my release; I had long since surrendered myself to her desire. I gasped as her movements quickened. Stars danced evasively in front of my eyes and I moaned, unable to hide my ecstasy.

Just as suddenly as she had started, she stopped, leaving me breathlessly withholding my release. I heard her voice, shaky and hoarse.

"Stay still." I remained motionless, closing my eyes, awaiting the next erotic encounter.

I felt her move forward, and, in an action I hadn't anticipated, took me inside of her by lowering herself slowly on me. We both let out a unanimous gasp, followed by a series of ragged breaths. She put her hands on my chest, balancing herself, while her legs splayed like a frogs on either side of me. In a quick burst of movement, she began to move her torso in the sequence that had driven me mad. Her hips thrust out, causing friction between our loins and pulled them back, moving her hips in a rocking motion I had used on her. My groin burned and I fought against my urge to release; I would wait. I didn't want this to end so quickly.

"Erik?" came her voice, shaky and longing.

"Yes?" I answered, looking up at her. Her back was contorting in amazing swooping motions while her shoulders tensed and her head fell limply forward.

"Sit up," she commanded, removing her hands from my chest and untying my hands. I obeyed her command and quickly wrapped my arms around her. Her movements began to quicken and my head pounded as I yearned to release this pent up energy that prowled like a feral beast in the pit of my gut. I kissed her neck hungrily, relishing the moan she made as my tongue lashed out against her flesh. She tensed and her moans grew louder, her groans thus increasing my arousal. Her stomach struck against mine again and again and I moved my head up to the top of her neck, biting tenderly against her sweet skin.

Suddenly, my grip tightened and I began to shake as the burning sensation reached its erupting point. I gritted my teeth and roared as I allowed myself, finally, the pleasure of releasing. Nasrin cried out, clutching fast to me and throwing her head back. I looked up at her. Her chest rose and fell as she shook in the safety of my arms. I embraced her and kissed her chest, moaning as my body fought for every last bit of release.

She fell limp like a doll in my arms, allowing me the pleasure of doing with her what I wished. I simply laid her down beside me and pulled myself from inside of her. Her eyes slowly opened and her gaze fell on me; she smiled, the scarves crumpled in her hands.

"Did I please you well enough?"

_My God Nasrin . . . what a question._

I reclined beside her and caressed her cheek, which tightened as she smiled.

"My God Nasrin . . . what a question." I answered as my conscience did, kissing her and laughing breathlessly.

She put the scarves aside, and I quickly took them up in my hands, dangling them in front of her eyes. She looked up at me in confusion.

"What?"

"Well, you know what they say, love?"

"What do they say? I am unfamiliar." She smiled up at me, already knowing what I was to say.

"Turnabout is fair play. Tomorrow, I'll need these." I laughed, anxiously awaiting the time when I had complete control over her; I knew she would surrender as I did.

She joined my laughter, weakly, but as sweetly as she could manage. I embraced her and lay my head on hers, too happy to sleep. She kissed my neck and I growled playfully, nipping her ear. My Nasrin smiled and growled back. She was too weak for lovemaking, but still retaining her vigor that would always astound me.

_My Nasrin_, I thought as I watched her slip into light slumber. _If I am to spend the rest of my life with you, like this, perhaps God has not forsaken me after all._

**Thanks to all my reviewers! Each one of you deserves . . . something of insane grandeur! (claps)**

**VictorianDream**: XD! I know, but I'm sure you were with him in spirit, no? Now cutting off my hands would not be good, because then I could not update. And that would not be yay at all for those who don't know the ending. And I won't call them, I know how it feels to be frantic, LOL. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: (gives tissues) Thank you very much. And yes, Nasrin does pretty much have PTSD. Poor thing. Hm, the crossover sounds really cool. If your pondering the singing dishes, lemme know a bit of the plot and I can try to help you out. (They would be very good for comic relief . . . if you plan on doing some humor.) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUChick04**: LOL, I know. Well, she knows now, so we're all good. Thanks, vaca was pretty cool, though working is a black cloud over me at the moment (spites it). And you are very welcome for the hug. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: Aww, thank you. (gives tissues just in case) XD! Even in death, we mock Jean. (And there is NOTHING wrong with that!) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx**: Soon to be over? Well, we'll just see about that. And here is another long chappy for you. YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Natsuki**: XD! It's ok poozle, I know it's you. Kinda scared Nadir with the ghetto talk, didn't you? XD! How delightfully amusing! Well, no need to keep hush hush about it anymore. So . . . YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**The Psychotic One**: (blink) Suzaku? OMG I HEART HIM SO MUCH! (My true preference has been and probably will always be Yoko Kurama, probably just because of . . . everything.) But Suzaku is up there with Hiei and Shuichi (though he is in essence Yoko, w/e) (giggle)

Erik: This is MY fanfic, not Yu Yu Hakusho's!

Shade: (flushes) sorry, just it's nice to see/ hear/ read from a fellow YYH fan. And as for my writing? I have a writing mentor I see every other week. I go to writing camps as well as write my own novels that are not fanfics. If you just work at it, you can do it, I'm sure. Not to mention there are a lot of other writers more talented than me on this site, so I learn from their different techniques as well. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Ali**: Good, I'm glad. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jen Lennon**: (dances with you) I know. About time, right? Well thanks! I return now, so YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: I hope this passion satiates you, lol. You have been very paitent and I thank you for it. Clowns? O.O Clowns scare the HELL outta me. (sucks thumb) (shivers) I do not like them at all. That is the best death plot of doom for me. Even better for Christine! MWAHA! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Mademoiselle Justicia**: XD! I know, this chapter had a lot of mixed emotions in it. It was intense, lol. Exhausting on the writer, let's just say that. Thank you very much! (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: I would too Sunbeam, I would too. (becomes envious of Nasrin) (even though that doesn't make sense) Anyway, DON'T DIE! I UPDATE, SEE? (glomps) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: XD! The mutilation thing was yay, but certainly NEVER cute. Ew. And Erik enjoyed the bone, LOL. About time Erik was nice, huh? HE HAS A HEART LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! BEHOLD!

Erik: Shut up.

Shade: (nervous laughter) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**harem98**: OMG, I am envious of your cake! (requests it for her own birthday) So tell me, how was your time with Erik? Did he behave? XD! And more E/N love cometh! (is excited) Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Corpse x Bride**: Yeah, he's great. I must see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and I am DYING for Corpse Bride to come out. I want to see it SO badly. He is very darkly talented, it's incredible. And please, take an axe to Jean's body . . . PLEASE! I need more Jean-bashing amusement. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Jessie**: XD! Jean has no hope of coming out of hell now, all the times he's been damned. LOL, thanks. Yay things are . . . well . . . yay. Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**Charity**: Wow, kewl! I feel special when people tell me that, thanks! And yes, kisses are nicer. Perhaps I shall save that prize for the end. Moo. HA! Thanks for the review and here is your update!

**GerrysJackie**: Thank you very much. I totally agree with the Erik thing. And he needed to be tender; not even a monster would be completely apathetic in a situation like that. It was difficult to write, however, it was not a bad turnout, methinks. So YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!


	29. In Vino Veritas

**Shade: Hey guys, I'm home again! YAHOO! OK, so this chapter is kinda short, but it sets up for the one after it, k? And due to the alert I received, I cannot do shoutouts; but after the chapter is another authoress's note telling you that. And from now on, forgive me if I update slowly, school is starting and I am certain AP English is going to be demanding, along with Honors Social Studies . . . you get the point. But for now, sink your teeth into this and my somewhat cliffie of doom.**

"_And me, with you beside you_

_To guard you and to guide you . . ._" –All I Ask of You

Chapter 29: In Vino Veritas

Finally, peace . . .

My mind no longer dwelt within a world of forsaken goods and failure. Instead, I was feeling more loved than I ever believed I could be . . . and the memories of Jean were fading. The scars would always remain, but the feeling of how it happened had been blurred out by far more pleasant memories of utter and complete love, written by three months of passion.

Perhaps it was clichéd to say that I had gotten what I had wanted for years . . . a husband who loved me as much as I loved him. Regardless of clichés, I was here, lying beside the personification of what I have wanted since childhood, though I must say that I never imagined he would share in my pain as well as Erik does.

My Erik . . .

He stirred in his sleep, locking me tighter in the sinewy ropes that served as his arms. I breathed in his sweet smell and pressed my head against his chest, counting the number of heartbeats that met my ears. Slowly, his arms pulled me closer until I wrapped one of my legs around his, my body unable to press against him any further.

"Erik, even in your sleep you overwhelm me," I mumbled to myself, laughing quietly.

"Who was it that deemed me in slumber?" he asked, his hand moving from my back to my leg, his fingers taking great liberty in exploring the length of it.

I smiled up at him, laughing slightly at his glassy eyes. It was obvious that I had awakened him with my observation. I flushed. "I guess I was wrong."

"No harm done," he purred in my ear. I knew he wanted me to take me again. The thought was quite warming, that he still made love to me as if it were our first time . . . each time. For a reason I could not decipher, he craved the sensations that entailed giving _me_ pleasure, instead of receiving it himself. Perhaps it still shocked him that he had such a power in him, though I had let him know that his power was very great indeed. Yet, as I looked at him, I realized that a painful thought still haunted my mind; one that desperately needed direct closure. I hoped he wouldn't think me foolish . . .

"Erik, I must ask you something. And please, be brutally honest." I pushed against his chest, forcing there to be some space separating us. His bright blue eyes narrowed in confusion and he crushed his lips together.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" He put a hand on my cheek, attempting to comfort me.

I bit my lip and sat up, covering my chest with the red blanket, even though it served no purpose whatsoever. "Erik, would you prefer if . . ." I paused. "If one time, you wanted me with my wig on. I wouldn't be offended if you missed running your fingers through a mane of hair."

"But you have hair, darling," he said, taking one of my few strands between his fingers.

"Well . . . yes, but no lock falls farther than the bottom of my ear. If you have ever felt the need to take me with my wig on, please be honest and tell me." Now that I had instigated it, I almost dreaded the answer he would give. I don't exactly know why I did, but it stirred the serpent of denial within me and caused it to rear its ugly head. I found myself biting my lip.

Erik paused and looked at me blankly, as if making sure I did not instigate a playful jest. Resting his head on his hands, he looked up at me. "Nasrin, do you miss touching and kissing the symmetrical face of a normal man?" He pointed to his sagging eye and disfigured red skin, which spread back and prevented the growth of a lot of hair.

"Of course not!" I said instantly. "Because your face made you the man I fell in love with. I would never want that to change, no matter what. But that doesn't mean-" He held up his hand to silence me and looked at me through incredulous eyes.

"Nasrin, my answer just spilled effortlessly from your lips. Of course I do not want you to put that thing on. I like the feel of your scalp against my hand; to me it is beautiful. Does that answer your question to your liking?"

I smiled and resumed snuggling up to him, laughing to myself as he eagerly embraced me. He kissed the top of my head chastely and nuzzled into me.

"Would you like something to eat, Nasrin? I am quite hungry myself." He rolled away from me and sat up, stretching his back.

I heard his stomach roar and I knew mine did as well. "Yes, I'll come with you." I stood up, covering myself with my normal turquoise skirt and top. Feeling as though I needed to stretch, I bent backwards, grimacing as my back vocalized a chorus of loud cracks. I was not nearly as flexible as I once was, most likely my inability to bend farther was caused by not practicing dancing every day . . . or at all, for that matter of recent. However, I no longer felt it necessary. Perhaps I would never truly need to dance again. I needed to prove nothing to him; he knew all he needed to know about me . . . save for-

"Nasrin," Erik cooed, entering the room once more. He smiled and offered me a black box laced in satin. As soon as he approached me, he opened the box, revealing to me a beautiful, shimmering diamond ring.

"Pardon me if I'm confused," I said, cocking my head. He kneeled down before me, looking up at me with such uncertainty that I became sincerely unnerved.

"Nasrin, will you marry me?" he asked softly.

I kneeled down and put my hands on his face. "Erik, after all the times I have told you that I loved you, that I have given myself to you completely, and I have sacrificed myself to be with you, you are so unsure of the answer. Did all of your blood flow from your brain to your manhood?"

He gave a half-hearted laugh. "No I know, my love. But you were given to me as a gift. I want you to accept that which would bind us together of your own volition, you see? I believe you should have a choice. I just need finality. Would you have this? Even after all I have done?"

I eagerly took the ring from the box and allowed it to slide onto my finger. "Of course I will." I felt the cool metal send chills through my hand and I smiled widely.

Erik took me in his arms and smiled as well, a small laugh bubbling in his throat. "Come, we must eat."

"Yes, you very well can't make love on an empty stomach, can you?" I asked him, slyly nibbling on his ear. He laughed in my ear and led me into the main room, sitting me down in a velvet chair. I eagerly leaned my head back, feeling the smooth fabric against my scalp.

"Here. I bought you your favorite wine: _La Vie de la Danseuse Persique_. I know how much you love it. And, I remember that today is the two year marker of when you were given to me."

I paused, thinking it over for a moment. Then, my face crinkled into a smile. "Why yes, it is. I had no idea it had been so long a time. Though, looking back at the girl who called you an 'ignorant, insolent, labyrinth-dwelling hermit' it does seem like years ago."

I grabbed a glass and poured us both generous helpings of the wine. It's blood dark liquid swirled in the chalice with scarlet bubbles gathering against the crystal sides. I smiled and held up my glass to his, striking the crystal together and forming an echoing pact of devotion.

"To our bond, may it never lesson with time," he proposed, sipping the wine gently.

"To our bond," I repeated, taking a small sip of the wine. Immediately, my stomach lurched and nausea choked me. I gagged and dropped the chalice, not even hearing it shatter upon impact. I grabbed my stomach in a fruitless desire to quell my stomach, but I fell forward, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Nasrin!" Erik cried, catching me as I pitched forward. My eyes watered and my head swam. I grabbed at him and allowed him to hold me tightly. It seemed to ease my sickness and my head fell against his neck. "What was that? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm just . . . I have always loved that wine. But right when it hit my stomach . . . not good," I whimpered, still holding fast to my stomach.

"Should we take you to Madame Giry?" Erik asked quietly, lifting me up in his arms bridal style. "Would she know what is the matter?"

"Yes," I mumbled. As another wave of nausea crashed over me, I wrenched from his arms, ran to the lake, and dry heaved, not having anything in my stomach to regurgitate. I began to feel dizzy and even more nauseous as the smells of the lair became sharper, more unbearable. Mold and grime suffocated the smell of roses and surged into my nose, causing more tears to trickle from my eyes.

"Easy, Nasrin. Take it easy. You'll be all right," Erik said frantically as he picked me up and lay me gently in the boat. "I'll bring you to Madame Giry. She should be able to help, or at least be able to take you to a hospital, should it, God forbid, come to that."

I sat up in the boat as Erik rowed off, feeling soothed by the motion of the boat. "It could be nothing urgent. Perhaps I just have a slight brush of a cold. Please don't over exert yourself. For all you know it could be nothing."

He glared down at me angrily. "Nasrin, you are a healthy, energetic woman. It isn't right that you should fall ill now. We have not eaten anything out of the ordinary."

"Good point," I cooed. "Not to mention that we have spent most of the last two months in your bed, so it was not as if I was somewhere foreign."

He flushed and looked away. Perhaps the prospect that he had constantly given in to his carnal desires had him still slightly embarrassed. I quieted myself immediately, not wanting to discomfort him further.

When the boat docked, he scooped me up in his arms, holding my head fast to his neck. I could hear his heart thunder from his pulse and a wrench twisted in my heart for keeping the truth from him.

"We're almost there," he said, his voice sharp with fright. When we reached Christine's mirror, he rapped on the glass angrily and with a determination I hadn't seen in a while.

"Madame Giry!" he called, seeing her tidy up the room from beyond the glass I sighed against Erik's neck, reassuring him of my health.

"Yes, Erik. I knew you were still alive below. What's wrong?" she answered, never looking up from rearranging the flowers in the room.

"Nasrin is sick; can you help her?" Erik asked, working the mechanism that opened the glass. He stepped through it, gently rocking me to soothe my stomach.

"AH! Great God, you could have given me some warning!" she gasped, turning away for a moment. It was then I realized that neither Erik nor I had on our facades. I covered my head with my hands and Erik stepped quickly back into the shadows.

"Forgive me, Madame. But if you can _stomach_ our true selves for a moment, please do. Nasrin is ill and I don't know what plagues her." He spoke in a hiss through gritted teeth and I touched his face reassuringly, nuzzling into his neck.

"Of course, many apologies, Monsieur et Madame. You startled me is all." Giry turned slowly to face the mirror.

Erik walked through into the light as Giry locked the door, preventing foreign intervention. He gently laid me down on Christine's old bed and stepped away as Giry approached me, her eyes enigmatic.

"What seems to bother you, Madame?" She put her hand on my forehead; feeling for a temperature that I knew did not exist.

"I feel nauseous with strong sensitivity to scent. I get dizzy and have unexplainable urges to vomit." I quickly put my hand on my stomach as I fought back another desire to heave.

Giry smiled warmly and hugged me gently. "You just answered your own question, my dear. I believe you know what has caused this."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, shifting his balance on his feet.

"Erik, what Nasrin is going through is very normal. I went through it myself as well." I saw him narrow his eyes and look down at me, a black interrogation forming in his eyes. I broke eye contact immediately, feeling myself become faint. The time to tell him was growing closer as each of my heartbeats thrummed in my chest.

"Is it normal for a woman to fall ill without any exposure to disease?" Erik asked quietly.

By Allah this man is ignorant of the truth.

"Erik . . . your wife is not _sick_," Giry stated poignantly. "Nasrin, tell your husband what you already know. Tell him what you have been hiding."

"Nasrin . . ." Erik started, his eyes boring into mine as his tone sharpened with severity.

I gulped, my eyes fighting to tear from his; however, I found his figure so intense that I was bound to burn in his scrutiny. I swallowed my fear and choked out, "Erik . . . my darling . . . I am with child."

**A/N: The title of this chapter is Latin for the phrase: In wine there is truth.**

**A/N: Sorry I can't do shout outs this time! Apparently there is some rule against it and I don't want this to be taken off the internet. If you have any questions or comments, my AIM sn is in my profile at the end, so if I'm on, just say hi, k? (as well as who you are of course) Just a general thank you goes out to everyone who's reviewed so far! And there are thirty-two chapters and an epilogue in this story, ok? Just because they had sex doesn't mean I'll just end it right there. They've still got a long story worth telling. Oh yeah, and LadyOfLegends gets Erik until my next update. YAY! Bye for now!**


	30. To Forsake the Music of the Night

**Shade: I know, I know! I've been a bad authoress! I'm sorry I haven't posted sooner! Anyway, this chapter is short too unfortunately. And it has a bad cliffhanger, so I'll post the next chapter ASAP. But school is tough for me this year, so just know that I'm doing my best. I would never abandon this story. Just to put that out there. The next 2 chapters are very emotional. Just a warning, and this one sets it up a bit. And sorry, no shoutouts this time! Next chappy, ok? Enjoy!**

"_Silently the senses_

_Abandon their defenses_

_Helpless to resist_

_The notes I write . . ._

_For I compose_

_The music of the night . . ._" –Music of the Night

Chapter 30: To Forsake the Music of the Night

"Erik . . . my darling . . . I am with child," Nasrin said weakly, crumbling under my gaze. As soon as she choked the sentence out, she broke eye contact with me and focused her attention on her hands, which lay calmly in her lap.

I felt myself weaken and I fell to my knees before her, thousands of conjectures and accusations blurring my thought process and numbing my tongue, leaving it incapable of forming speech. For a long few moments, I couldn't move, couldn't speak; I couldn't respond in any way possible.

"Erik, please say something," she whispered, her breath shuddering.

I looked up at her, half expecting her to faint from the sound of weakness in her voice. Instead, I found her with tears streaming down her face, and I knew that my inability to react had hurt her. I forced my leaden limbs in motion, sat beside her on the bed, and welcomed her into my arms. She fell limply against my body, as if emotionally defeated by my reaction.

"Erik, please. Speak," she whispered into me, her warm breath gently caressing the cool flesh of my neck.

"Whose child, Nasrin?" I whispered softly in her ear. However, Giry had heard me, and her eyes widened with concern. I had forgotten that she did not know of Jean's actions and I silenced myself by chewing on my lower lip.

Nasrin looked up at me with her glassy blue-green eyes. "You said that I was near dead when you returned to me. I slept for a long time without nutrition enough to feed both a growing child and myself. It surely cannot be Jean's child within me."

As the realization that what she said was true, I sighed and pulled her tighter, feeling her heart beat against mine. Nasrin pulled away and kissed my forehead.

"I have only lain with one man since Jean. What grows in me is ours." She paused as her eyes analyzed my expression. "So, why do you still look so unhappy?" She touched my face, her slender fingers tracing the ridges of my deformity. She furrowed her eyebrows and examined every inch of my face with a faint frown on her lips.

"Nasrin," Madame Giry breathed. Immediately, by the tone in her voice, I knew what it was she was going to ask.

Nasrin reluctantly turned from me and faced Giry with her head raised. I bowed my head and chose to listen instead of watch her facial expression change. Instantaneously, the image of Nasrin lying tied up and beaten bloody surged into my mind and I instinctively pulled her tighter in my arms.

"Yes, Madame? Undoubtedly you are going to inquire about Jean de Lamarier, am I right?" Her voice was dark, completely contrasting the pleading tone she had acquired while talking to me. I pressed my face against the side of her head, holding her firmly in my arms.

"Yes. You said you lay with him. Why would you do that?" she asked, aghast. I growled up at her, warning her against inquiring further.

"It was not of my volition, you foolish woman," Nasrin spat, far harsher than I had ever heard her speak to Giry. "Do my scars tell a story to you? If they speak of voluntary adultery, speak now." Her body had tensed and she had begun to shake, undoubtedly from rage.

Giry had fallen silent and had resigned herself to examining the scars on Nasrin's chest. Her eyes darted over the pale marks quietly, and the truth began to manifest in her eyes. Her expression blurred together the emotions of curiosity and horror.

"Is that why he's dead?" she ventured gently.

"It is why I murdered him," I interjected venomously. "Madame, if you had seen what he did to her, you would have killed him as well."

Giry bit her lip and fell silent, looking down at the ground. I turned my attention back to Nasrin, who nuzzled into my neck, hiding herself in the protection I had subconsciously offered her.

"Nasrin," I began, pulling her away from me and cupping my hands under her face. She was silent, but her gaze beckoned me to continue. "You are really with child?" I placed my hand on her warm stomach, feeling for any sign of a child stirring beneath my touch.

She kissed me softly, her warm tongue briefly brushing against my teeth. "Is it truly so hard to believe, Erik? I knew, after all the times we lay together, that I would eventually conceive." She pulled away from me and placed a protective hand over her abdomen.

I knew her to be correct. Thinking back on the past few months, it seemed impossible for her not to become pregnant unless she was incapable all together.

"But you knew that you were with child?" I conjectured, with slight irritation in my tone.

". . . Well, I had suspected, but I did not know for certain," she offered meekly, her eyes making every effort to avoid mine.

"For how long? How long had you suspected?" I continued.

She shrugged. "A month, two months, I believe. I have not bled since I first lay with you, so perhaps I am three months with child." She lay back on the bed and, for the first time I saw a small swell in her stomach.

"Where will you go now?" Giry asked. "A child raised in the darkness is not healthy if they know nothing else. You two must leave Paris immediately. You must start a new life somewhere else and forsake your names and identities."

Nasrin reluctantly nodded, already knowing she would have to; she had been proclaimed dead months ago, and only fairly recently shown me otherwise. But for me, the chance at a new life away from my cursed past seemed almost too great a gift. I didn't deserve a second chance; but someone had seen it fit for me to have one. I nodded in agreement as well.

"Yes, we must leave this place. Immediately, I believe. Erik, we must find a new home in a new town in less than six months. I am not having this child on the streets." The severity in her voice was to ensure that I was not to say otherwise.

"All right. We will gather our belongings now, and leave tonight," I reassured her, standing up and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You understand that you are leaving everything behind the only home you have ever known, right?" Nasrin asked, testing my devotion.

"Yes," I answered, my voice not faltering. In truth, I was very unsure and frightened to say the least. However, Madame Giry was correct; a child doesn't belong in a desolate solitude rank with gloom and despair. Nasrin and I were no longer the most important people in our lives; and surprisingly, it was a rather refreshing concept.

"All right, then let us go." She stood up and embraced Madame Giry, who wrapped her arms around her as well. "Farewell, Madame. I don't think we will ever see each other again."

Madame Giry sighed. "Farewell, my dear. Do well to take care of the child; promise me that."

"Of course I will promise that," she answered, pulling away.

I stood stock-still, uneasy at the thought of embracing Madame Giry, though I owed her so much. I shifted from foot to foot and slowly bowed my head to her, manifesting my respect as much as my pride would allow.

Madame Giry smiled warmly, and in her eyes I saw her spirit embrace me, just enough to show that she respected me. I bowed my head to her again.

"Good-bye, Erik. I believe it is about time for you to leave this life behind and start anew. I wish the best of luck to both of you; I will keep you in my nightly prayers." She bowed to us and motioned to the mirror. "Now go, before some one hears us and suspects the worst."

I ushered Nasrin into the mirror and closed it behind me, looking sullenly once more at the sad, yet cheerful face of Madame Giry. There she was; the first person to ever show me any compassion. I smiled at her from behind the glass, knowing she couldn't see me.

"Madame," I said quietly; she raised her head to the mirror, searching its surface for any sign of me.

"Yes, Erik?"

"Remember, but pretend to forgot," I said softly, though it was a command I had issued to her.

"I will," she answered just as softly, bowing her head and smiling slightly.

From beside me, Nasrin nudged my arm. "Erik, come on. We must get moving if we want a quick start."

I turned from Giry and followed Nasrin into the darkness, my mind not processing that this could be the last time I would ever see it…

When we reached my lair, Nasrin began gathering the small amount of belongings she arrived with, stringing it together in a spare afghan. She wrapped her black one around her body, hiding all bare skin from her neck to her feet. She grabbed her wig, thrown carelessly across the lair, and fitted it over her head, tucking the rest of it under the cloth before adorning her veil and hiding all of her but her eyes. If I were passing on the streets, I would hardly recognize her but for the color of her eyes.

I began gathering up scores of music, long since abandoned, around my organ and shoved them in a dark sleeve. My other two evening suits were strewn by the bed, and neither of them managed to stay on my body long enough to get dirty in the first place. I carefully put on the evening suit meant to cover my loose white shirt. When I was fully clothed, I pulled another white mask from the table as well as a wig and placed them carefully over my deformity.

"Nasrin, is everything on straight? Is it covered?" I turned my head to the right so she could see. She walked up and slightly adjusted my mask.

"There, now it's fine. Do you have everything you need?" she asked, anxiety dripping rank in her tone.

"Yes, I only need my clothes and some music. The rest I can replace," I assured her.

"What about this?" she asked, holding the stuffed monkey in one hand, and paper mache musical box in the other. She looked up at me, urging me to take them. "They mean something to you; we cannot just leave them behind."

I took the stuffed monkey and put it in a bag I recently acquired. "The new baby might like this. The other can stay; it represents a part of my life over. I never want to see it again."

Nasrin nodded mutely and put the music box back down by the swan bed, in which lay so many wonderful memories. I smiled at it subconsciously, dwindling for a few more moments and trying to store every inch of its magnificence in my memory; I never wanted to forget. She followed my gaze and pressed her head against my neck.

"We shall find another bed, Erik. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can. Come on, I have a bad feeling about staying here now." She urged me in the direction of the secret passageway.

"All right; come, my little Fire Rose."

She stopped me in my tracks. "You cannot call me that anymore. We are not Erik and Nasrin any longer, right? You shall be Delano and I Sadira. Our last name can be something like 'Morel' if that's all right with you."

I shrugged. "It matters not; a second chance in a false identity is still a second chance. Delano and Sadira Morel we shall be from now until the day we perish." I nodded solemnly at her and she smiled at me from underneath the veil. She was just as beautiful fully clothed as she was completely nude and locked in my arms. I found myself smiling slightly back.

Suddenly, the sound of angry men filled the lair and my head shot up. Footsteps pounded on the rock, sending a roar of thunder barreling down from above. There was roaring and chanting and I knew immediately; someone had heard us talking with Madame Giry. We had given ourselves away.

I looked at Nasrin, whose eyes were wide with fear and her hand clutched fast to her stomach. I slipped down her veil and kissed her as the mob grew closer, their feet splashing down in my lake.

"Get out of here, Nasrin. Get out while you still can," I hissed.

"What about you?" she asked. "If you stay, then so shall I."

"You are the most important one right now. Go to the passageway. I'll follow you."

"I'll stay by your side as any loyal wife would," she spat back.

I growled and my hand glanced across her face. "Do not be so ignorant! The child needs to survive, and you are its vessel. Get out. I'll hold them off long enough for you to escape safely. Then I will join you. Just _go_."

She was frozen in her spot, her face locked in shocked horror as she rubbed her face free of pain. In a moment, she took a step back… two steps back.

"RUN!" I roared angrily, frantic for her safety. She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes and fled, vanishing behind the curtain just as the mob reached my entranceway.

I turned to greet them, moving towards the lever to allow them in. If they wanted to destroy the Phantom, they would be distraught, for he was already dead. Erik was all that remained. And, if they wanted to destroy all that remained of me, of Erik… I would make certain that if they took my body, that they would never harm my child's.

I raised the portcullis…


	31. Fidelity Written in Blood

"_And you_

_Always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me…_" – All I Ask of You

Chapter 31: Fidelity Written in Blood

I ran…

I ran through the curtain and beyond, losing myself in darkness and forsaking myself once again. The blackness choked me, seeping into my eyes, nose, and mouth, overtaking and dulling my senses until all that remained was touch. I stumbled about, holding the wall and guiding myself through the corridor. I stopped and looked back, only faintly seeing the dim light that heralded the entrance to what once was my haven. I heard the portcullis groan as it was raised and my heart began to pound.

Why wasn't Erik following me? He promised he would come. I waited still, watching the sliver of light, waiting for it to be blocked out and a voice say, "Come Nasrin; all is well." However, when the portcullis groaned open, I realized.

He wasn't going to follow me. He was going to kill the mob; even at the expense of his own life, so that the child and myself could be safe from harm forever. I began to feel sick and my fingers curled on the stone, scraping along its rough surface. No… I was not going to let that happen. The child would need a mother and a father; and if Erik were to fall, I would never marry again. I couldn't bring myself to replace him, and for that reason I began to walk back.

Suddenly, the curtain was flung up, and more light seared through the darkness. However, I knew I was safe, enclosed inside a darkness not even the light could hope to penetrate. Two men were silhouetted in the light and I knew immediately that something was wrong. One looked back towards the direction of the lair and laughed.

"Hey! I found a passageway! I'll bet this is how he gets around here unnoticed! Isn't that right, _Phantom_?"

Oh no… They had him helpless in their possession… Or worse…

I narrowed my eyes and stayed still in the passageway, watching the two men as they strode confidently into darkness, with nothing to light the way. Pretty soon, they would be as blind as I. Pressing myself against the wall, I stood still, not even daring to breathe.

I saw them, clinging to the wall and walking directly at me, their guns at ease at their sides. Soon, they were beside me. I could feel their body heat; I could smell their filth. My upper lip curled back and I waited. Just as they stopped for a moment I threw myself at the closest one, smashing his head into the wall and killing him instantly. I crouched down by his body as his companion opened fire; he shot where my head would be if I had been standing. Then, all went silent.

"Phillipe? Henri?" shouted a man from the lair. "Did you find something?"

"It was a... a ghost, sir!" one of them, I knew not which, cried. He kneeled down and I darted around him, planning my next course of action.

"A ghost? Don't be preposterous, man! The Opera Ghost is in our possession! There is no other!"

"But sir! Phillipe is dead! His skull is crushed to pieces!" I could hear the gun in his hand rattle with his fear. Sneaking my arm beside Henri, I found Phillipe's gun. Smiling, I drew it to me and stayed still. Just as Henri began to turn around, I snatched his gun from him and fired point blank. The sickening thud of a body hitting the floor resounded in my ears and I began to walk towards the lair.

"NO!" I heard Erik cry.

"Man, what's going on back there?" the man asked again. I remained silent and waited until I could see my hands before I put Phillipe's gun in my afghan. "Men! What happened?"

Holding Henri's gun, I pushed back the curtain and walked into the lair.

There were five men holding Erik still as he thrashed madly, a black piece of cloth blindfolding him. He looked as though he had been beaten slightly, and his head hung forward as he struggled to ignore the bloody gashes on his face. I fought to remain quiet as I examined the other three men who pointed their muskets at me.

I raised my hand and dropped my gun. They kept their guns pointed at me without fail, but their eyes told me that they were less inclined to shoot.

Looking at Erik, I found that a man had a gun pressed to his temple, and he was slowly moving towards the trigger, readying to pull it. In a flash, I drew the gun from my afghan and shot at him, praying my aim was good enough.

He fell to the ground, the bullet crippling his trigger arm. With a cry, blood spurted from his elbow and he released Erik. Just as Erik's thrashing became worse, more men latched on to him, holding him helpless.

I had one man pointing his gun at me, and I knew he was ready to fire. I growled and lunged at him. He fired; but the shot only clicked. Something had gone wrong with the gun, and I grappled it from his hands. He threw me off him and I crashed to the ground, wincing as my elbow scraped against the cold stone.

He leaped to his feet and ran at me. "I have you!" As I got to my feet he raised his fist and brought it down hard on my head. Colors blurred before my eyes and I felt myself losing touch with my senses. I felt numb, but, as I fell to the ground, the man struck me once more: in my abdomen…

xXxXx

**Erik's POV:**

I raised the portcullis…

Nine armed men strode into my lair, their guns aimed at my head and chest. They surrounded me in a moment, and I narrowed my eyes as their bayonets jabbed into my back and chest. The man to my right was shaking, the weak animal in the pack; he would soon become my prey.

"You are him, aren't you? The _Phantom of the Opera_. You're the one who killed the Comte de Lamarier!" The one to my direct front was obviously leader of this pack of barbaric beasts. I sneered.

"You have caught him. Yes, I am he," I said proudly. "But be careful. If I hold no remorse for killing a Comte, there will not be a spot on my conscience if you fall prey to me." I smiled maniacally, and even the leader shrank back slightly, gauging the situation with a monkey's intellect.

"Search his home, men. We will bring anything we find valuable to the streets. Whatever we find, we keep." He grinned haughtily.

"Now, I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said calmly. "Crossing me is not something anyone has escaped from unscathed. You are no different then the rest of those bumbling idiots."

"If we are so stupid, then why are we in here?" one spat.

I turned to them. "Because I allowed you to enter. I did it for one reason, you know."

"And what's that, ghost? Don't think that if you tell us, you'll want to be going free. I want to know what color blood a ghost spills." He prodded me with the bayonet, trying to coax blood from the punctured skin. I remained stoic.

"I allowed you to enter, because once I knew you would run to me like the ignorant fools you are, I would destroy you." I ducked down, and, as soon as they stabbed forward, I leaped on the man to the direct right of me, grabbed his bayonet, and stabbed it into his gut, twisting the metal as it dug deeper into his innards.

Immediately, I realized that my lapse in quickness had led to a most untimely capture. They quickly wrenched my arms apart and spread them wide, leaving my chest cavity open for a clear shot. There was no possible hope that it would miss. In a frantic attempt at life, I lashed my foot up, sending water all over the man, including his gun. If I had gotten the gunpowder wet, he could not fire.

"Hey! I found a passageway! I'll bet that's how he gets around here unnoticed. Isn't that right, _Phantom_?" a man hissed at me and he drew open the curtain to reveal the passageway I had ordered Nasrin to flee in. My eyes widened and my heart thundered. I prayed with all of my heart that Nasrin was out of reach by now; I hoped for all its impossibility that she was somewhere safe at the moment, waiting for me.

_Although,_ I admitted to myself bitterly, _it doesn't look like I'll be able to join her as quickly as I had surmised._

The men walked into the passageway, and immediately, all was silent. All I could hear was my own ragged breath. Then, out of the silence, I heard a groan and a thud. One of the men had fallen… from the sound of it to their death. I was struck with a horrifying revelation. Nasrin must have heard the scuffle; she would have come back to ensure my safety. I began to thrash madly, fighting against the human bonds, which kept me from protecting her. Didn't she know that they were armed?

"Phillipe! Henri! Did you find something?" the leader called, anxious that silence still lingered.

"It was a... a ghost, sir!" one of them replied in fear.

"A ghost? Don't be preposterous, man! The Opera Ghost is in our possession! There is no other!" Yet in this reassurance, I saw the leader losing much of his façade of courage.

"But sir! Phillipe is dead! His skull is crushed to pieces!" came the frantic reply. Suddenly, there were sounds of a scuffle, and then a gunshot. All fell still.

"NO!" I cried. If he had shot Nasrin… they might as well take me.

"Man, what's going on back there?" There was only silence and I didn't even bother thrashing as they covered my eyes with a black cloth. "Men, what happened?" the leader cried again, getting more apprehensive as the silence grew.

Suddenly, I heard guns cock and I knew she had come back. I didn't dare breathe as my mind's eye imagined Nasrin walking over to me, angering me far worse than anything she had ever done before. She was putting not only her life in useless danger, but what she held within her. A gun pressed against my temple and I gritted my teeth. Was everything I treasured going to be robbed of me at this moment?

A gunshot resounded through the air and I swore it was me who had fallen. But, after that instant, I heard the man who held the gun to me scream and retreat. A splatter of hot liquid hit my face and I knew someone had shot him. I jerked my head from side to side, trying to pick up the sounds of a scuffle to my right. A feminine cry of pain caused a knot to form in my stomach and I heard a body crash to the ground.

"That got her. She won't wake up for a while, if ever again," her assumed assaulter remarked to the rest of the men.

I thrashed madly in my captor's arms, roaring in rage as their grip tightened and I could scarce breathe in their grasp.

"NO! Get up! Get up!" I cried at her, pleading against fate for another chance to protect and help her regain health.

"You want to see her? Then SEE!" A man tore off the blindfold and I looked down at Nasrin's crumpled form. She was awake, for she blinked, but her eyes were dull and she began to breathe heavily, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out. She was too proud to let them know that they had injured her.

Then, her eyes found mine and they pleaded for me to help her. They also were dark with sorrow; she couldn't free me and she knew it. Tears squeezed from between her eyelids before she fell limp on the stone, her eyelashes clumped with the moisture that ran down her face.

"NO!" I repeated, my feet trying to find a grip on the stone so that I could run to her.

"You're coming with us," one of them hissed at me, his rancid breath engulfing my face. I narrowed my eyes, the promise of death repeating over and over in my head.

"Leave her," the leader spat, looking with raised eyebrows down at Nasrin. "She's a beautiful girl." Turning to me, he finished, "How were you able to seduce her? Perhaps there is a trick about seduction that you could teach me before you go for your execution."

I growled, my exhausted limbs forsaking thrashing altogether. "No," I replied simply, though my tone was edged with malice.

"Very well, your choice." He pulled a sack over my head with only a hole in which to breathe. My eyes darted in the darkness, seeking desperately for light. But, I was at their mercy, and nothing I did would help me now. Plotting my revenge and the murder of my captives, I allowed them to lead me out of my home.

xXxXx

**Nasrin's POV**:

It was hours later before I opened my eyes. The air around me was deathly still, and not even the candles flickered like they usual do. Time seemed to stand still. Was it waiting for something?

Suddenly, a pain seared through my torso and I cried out, curling into a tight ball to ease the agony and stop my head from throbbing. My lungs froze and I couldn't breathe as the pulse of my heartbeat ripped a rhythm of torment through my body. Tears sprang forth and I began to shake, clutching my stomach.

Colored dots danced before my eyes and I stood on my feet, staggering around on wobbly legs as another wave of pain caused my legs to fail beneath me and send me careening into the lake. Fighting for the surface with numbing limbs, I took greedy gulps of air before screaming as the agony increased with each second. The tears felt cold on my burning face and I realized with a life-shattering clarity what was happening to me.

"NO! Don't do this, please! Allah! No, oh by your holy name don't do this to me!" My cries went unanswered as I writhed in the lair alone, without any comfort around me. Only darkness… I reached out across the lake, thinking I saw Erik's beautiful silhouette in the shadows in the darker recesses of the labyrinth. The image of him faded into nothing, leaving me without anything to hold onto as my world came crashing down on me once again; I gripped the stone and shook as my strength formed a swell of speech in my throat.

"Erik!" I called, my cry tearing from my throat as another spasm of pain robbed me of all words and left me only with screams of anguish, which would undoubtedly echo in this place years after. The pain reached a climax and I felt as though my organs would burst from my body, as they twisted around in my insides and contracted again and again. My head snapped up and I screamed as my last hope of happiness ripped through my being. Every inch of me convulsed as the climax dragged onward for what seemed like an eternity of agony unsurpassed by modern torture devices. I thought I was dying very slowly… in essence, I was.

Suddenly, there was a warm gush of release and I fell back against the stone, defeated and sweating out the dulling pain. The colored specks had clouded my vision and left me lying numb and helplessly alone with only my blood-soaked skirt and legs reminding me of the horrid truth: _You have lost your firstborn…_

"No," I mumbled out loud, my tears serving as my own drinking water while my limbs couldn't move. I remember succumbing to my exhaustion just afterwards and falling into a slumber teeming with demons and monsters. I wept the whole time…

xxxx

I forced myself into awakening and sat up, looking around at the foreign site of the lair before my eyes. The love, the passion experienced here was nothing more than memory and a new chapter had been written in its place. Pain… like nothing any living being should endure had taken up the quill and wrote in this lair's book of life.

I staggered to my feet, groaning as they crumpled beneath me, still having not recovered completely from the agony that still held my limbs to the ground like lead. My tears had dried and evaporated on my face, leaving my cheeks to stick with a dry residue. I shakily washed my face in the lake, feeling my heart almost burst with relief as the cold water soothed the raging heat that burned within me.

"Erik…" I mumbled as I stood up, my legs retaining some solidity. He was taken from me to a prison, an execution certain for the next day. I had to get him back; I would free him… I would kill anyone who got in my way. I just lost what would have become my first child; I would not lose him too.

Running on a strength I knew I didn't have, I staggered across the lake, following the path to the world above. I crawled on my hands and knees up countless flights of stairs, not even processing the journey I made. When I reached the cold, autumn, Paris night, the silver moon glared desolately down at me, mocking my solitude. I wanted to shatter it into thousands if irreparable pieces. Instead, I focused on my task at hand and stumbled down the road towards the prison, Phillipe's gun tucked beneath my robes and a promise of death in my eyes.

xXxXx

**Erik's POV**:

Darkness…

Damp, overhanging, choking darkness filled every sense, leaving me sitting completely still in my cell, contemplating my escape. I was to be executed at dawn, which only left precious few hours before the sun's rays leaped forth in fingers of pink and gold. I gritted my teeth, hexing everything around me in the worst way I knew how. I ran my hands along the cold iron bars, looking for a rusted piece to disengage and begin my tedious work of escape.

I had to get to her… I wanted to hold her again and repeat my pledge of fidelity to her.

I wanted to love her…

I looked out my small slip of a window, making sure dawn was nowhere near. I needed a plan, and quickly. I sat down and thought, playing over tomorrow's events as if they had already happened and I was reminiscing them. I knew it wouldn't be just one man retrieving me later; there would be at least two others to keep me from escaping. I wouldn't be able to fit out the window; my only hope was to open the lock with a tool. I drew from my pocket a small, knotted end of rope. Grimacing, I shoved it in the lock and worked it around, desperate to hear the lock groan and give way.

I worked at it for hours, a laborious sweat burning as it trickled into my eyes. My temple throbbed and I heard thunder crash as clouds moved over, choking the night.

Suddenly, I heard a gunshot, loud and ringing true; a body fell to the ground, triggering various cries, followed by several more shots. More bodies fell. I backed into darkness, wondering what new evil had shown itself to me. As I looked in the direction of the door, I saw a figure standing on shaking legs, a pistol aimed right and true at the last guard standing, the last impediment separating it from me. I watched as, in a flash of lightning, they fired. I was unsure if I should be happy that the guard fell, collapsing next to his comrades, all devoid of life.

The creature stumbled over to me on unsteady legs, the pistol dropping from its hands in careless anticipation. It reached my cell, gripping the iron bars tightly, the knuckles blanching white.

"Erik?" I heard my name lifted on angel's wings and I knew immediately who had come.

"Nasrin," I cooed quietly, running forward to the bars, reaching my arms out to touch her. My hands closed over hers and searing heat forced me to retreat. "You're burning up. You are not well. Just open the door, and I'll carry you the rest of the way out."

She grabbed the keys from a guard's belt and ripped my rope out of the lock, looking at it with a twisted expression. I found myself burning with embarrassment. She turned the key and swung open the door, wincing as the rusty hinges groaned in protest. As soon as the barricade was gone, I ran to her and caught her feverish body in my arms. She was shaking and panting; I knew something was very wrong, and I immediately scooped her in my arms and ran out of the prison, leaping over the corpses of the cursed ones who held me captive. We burst onto the streets, Nasrin lying completely flaccid in my arms, only her breathing speaking of her life. Rain began to fall, exploding from the swelled clouds and further freezing our bodies. I ran into an alleyway half a mile from the prison and set her down under the protection of canopy belonging to a nearby store. She opened her eyes and looked at me, then immediately turned her gaze. I knew not whether she was weeping, or if the rain was splattered across her cheeks.

I moved to touch her face, but she turned away and hung her head, curling herself into a tight ball and shaking with what I assumed were tears.

"Nasrin, it's all right. I'm glad you didn't listen to me. If you didn't, I'd still be captive to those wretched men." I held her reassuringly, rocking her in the safety of my arms.

She pushed away, almost violently and shook her head. "No! No, don't say that again! What I did was terribly wrong! It was ill fated! I'm sorry, Erik! So sorry…" She trailed off in a fit of tears, her face contorted with terrible sorrow.

"What is it exactly that you are sorry for?" I asked her quietly, hoping to coax out an answer so that I could reassure her once more.

"No… If I tell you what I've done, you will never hold me again. You'll leave me! I will disgust and be in disfavor for you forever! Please don't make me tell!" She was an utter wreck, and her sagging limbs spoke to me of her fatigue. Did she go through a massive struggle to get to me?

I grabbed her left hand, almost angrily and put it to her face. "Look at the ring, Nasrin. I gave it to you and you accepted it; until the day I can no longer speak, and my soul has fled, I will remain with you. Do you understand? That is what that ring represents. Now tell me what it is that you say you have done."

She looked up in my direction, but not at me. "Take off my afghan and look at my skirt." Her voice was emotionless, stoic, as if she had no more sorrow to express and had been left with nothing but indifference.

I opened her afghan slowly, now racking my brain for what it is that could have her this distraught. As soon as I separated the garment fully, she threw her head back and emitted a wounded howl, lost in the roaring wind. I blinked slowly, the reality so wounding that I felt a part of me lose the will to live.

Her turquoise skirt was stained dark red, and it was apparent the blood had gushed from her, for it was splattered everywhere. I touched the stain with my fingers. It was still warm to my touch. I bowed my head, mourning the loss of one I had waited for my entire life.

I cried…

I wept just as hard as she did. For what seemed like hours we wept in the alleyway, sheltered from the heaven's tears but not our own. But I held her. I held her in my arms until I felt that her body had ceased to exist and she had become absorbed into me.

Countless repetitions of the phrase 'I failed you…' were whispered in my ear by the most broken creature next to myself. I forgave her, for I was still here to hold her, but even so…

As the rain slowed down, I assured her that it wasn't her fault; that I didn't blame her at all for what happened to the precious beginnings of a life born of our love. I told her over and over that there wasn't anything she could do, that she shouldn't blame herself. But, the darkest part of me blamed her; and that betrayal of my love was one of the reasons I wept.

xXxXx

**Nasrin's POV**:

He held me until the skies themselves stopped weeping and I alone remained with tears. I knew I had failed him again; I would always find a new way to prevent his happiness. I knew it as soon as he began to cry when he saw the truth. I was trained to make my husband happy and fulfilled, but I was never educated in how to keep him from tears.

I knew he blamed me… it was obvious in the way he held me. But at the same time, he forgave me; and that alone kept me from losing touch with reality and succumbing to depression's tyrannical hold once again.

He stood me up on shaky legs, looking me firmly in the eye. "We must flee now. No going back to the Opera; no retrieving our belongings. We are to start completely anew, with only the remainder of my money to support us. Come, the sun is rising."

And he was right, the yellow fingers of dawn were rising, strangling and banishing darkness from the land and welcoming another reign of sunlight. I hesitantly rested my head on his chest as he stood behind me, smiling slightly as his grip on me tightened. The same man who had dragged me into the night and taught me to thrive on darkness was now the one bringing me to the light to wash away my sins.

Perhaps we could never go back to the Opera, but I would miss nothing about it save for the lair and the bright memories it held, even in unending darkness. Both of us looked at each other in a moment, knowing we must run far away, where no one would find us. But that was all right with me; his forgiveness had been my redemption and I would follow him wherever he lead.

We moved forward and stepped into the light…

**A/N: THIS WAS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! THERE ARE STILL 2 MORE! OK, now that we have that settled. Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Your support makes this a story I would happily continue!**

**Videociraptor: **Go Vi! WOOT! LOL, yes, you were the only person to catch that… but that just shows that you RULE! (dances) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**xAngelxOfxMusicx**: Sorry! I know, I know! Well, this was the soonest I could update; I hope it's good enough! LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**GerrysISUCHick04**: (blink) Don't tripe me! AIEE! (runs) See, I updated! (nervous laughter) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: LOL, yeah, I kinda threw some people for a loop with that. Well, he hit her because he knew she was gonna be stupid and try to stand by him… He had to make her leave. Poor Erik was frantic; he didn't want her to get herself in useless danger and hurt or kill the child. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: Sorry, I didn't get that e-mail. I have an apple too. What program are you using to post your chapters? If you use Microsoft Word, you get all the bold and italic stuff; that's what I'm using. In accordance with the chapter, I never thought of Madame Giry being a godmother, but now that you mention it, I can totally see that too. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Norma Jean the Dancing Machine**: XD! He is one character you will never stop hating. But that's awesome because I won't either. LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: XD! Sorry, I know it's intense! After this there isn't anything else like that, so I hope no more gray hairs sprout… though this chappy was pretty intense I think. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: Glad you had fun with Erik, LOL. I knew you would. And yes, he hit her (in panic, might I add, not just "a face! Let me strike upon it!") Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: I know, I'm sorry! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Mrs. Gerard Butler**: Sorry! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**yagirl-123**: XD! Wow, you rushed somewhere to read this? That just made my day! LOL. And yes, Delano… XD! 'Twas some random name I picked out from French boy names. I would have HATED him being something as generic as Pierre… or… dare I say… Jean. Ew… never! LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Victorian Dream**: LOL! Yes, soap operas beware! Shade the Sunslayer pwns you! I know, pregnant women are so vulnerable… but this chapter pretty much centers around that... Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**naomipoe**: XD! Well, his intentions were good at least. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**The Psychotic One**: XD! Oh my goodness your review had me laughing. Suzaku seems to be your voice of reason; Yoko Kurama is mine… although that seems kinda dangerous… seeing as though he is such a lecher kitsune. Oh well… whatever works, right? No need to hurt your computer! I updated, see! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**HoveringThroughTime**: XD! Thank you very much! I'm so glad you like my story! And your name is yay too; I like it. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**darklady5289**: Thank you very much! (bows) Don't worry! Everything will turn out (somewhat) alright! (nervous laughter) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Ali**: I know! I know! I am an evil authoress! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Dragon-mage16**: I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! That's how I broke up the chapters when I first started writing this. There was nothing I could have done. Forgive me. The one eyed, one horned, flying, purple people-eater… where have I heard that before? Is it a song? . I feel like I should know. But the prospect of Christine being eaten by it is quite amusing either way. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**hikoku**: I fail? NOT yay! Erik! Un-fail me!

Erik: (hugs hikoku tightly)

Shade: YAY! I hope that helps! Thanks so much for your compliment! Thanks for your review and here is your update!


	32. Trancending Time

**Shade: I'm trying to get to 500 reviews. With only two more chapters, I think you guys can do it. And if you've just been reading and not reviewing (which is a lot of you out there, lol) just pop in and tell me how you like the story, k? All right, onwards!**

"_Your spirit_

_And my voice_

_In one combined…_" –Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 32: Transcending Time

_Seven years later…_

Step by step, we ambled down the streets of Nice, our eyes wandering idly to the many store displays along the sidewalk. Nasrin smiled warmly as the sun bathed her dark skin. Closing her eyes and sighing, she clutched the smallest bit tighter to my arm. It was my turn to smile and I looked down at her; her unprovoked displays of affection never failed to lighten my mood. It was one of the many aspects of our new lives that still heralded love.

Our escape to Nice had been a difficult one; but the new lives of Delano and Sadira Morel had long since begun. And now the prosperous façade had made us capable of raising children comfortably.

"Mother! Father!" A familiar call dimmed the chaos of Nice streets and I felt my smile widen. How the voice of a child can warm even the coldest hearts is no longer a mystery to me.

Nasrin detached herself from me, and bent down, allowing our firstborn to run into her arms. She caught him in a firm hug, her smile radiating warmth to all around her. I knew that, despite everything, she had become a wonderful mother.

"Sadira, dear heart, I'll carry him." I smiled widely at her, kissing her on the cheek. "You are carrying enough as it is." I placed a hand on her swollen abdomen.

"Go to your father, Cyrus," she instructed calmly, her eyes lying calmly on my face, a smile behind them.

I scooped up Cyrus in my arms, hearing him laugh as he clutched to the collar of my coat. I looked into his eyes, seeing the soul of my wife beating behind the blue-green irises. And yet, the rest of him spoke of my blood, save for what still lay concealed behind the mask. Our firstborn bore no distortional resemblance to me, and for that I was thankful.

"Cyrus, where is your sister?" Nasrin asked while fixing a cowlick in the boy's unruly brown hair.

"She was right behind me," he said, pointing his little finger down the street.

"Cyrus," Nasrin scolded quietly. "Why did you leave her behind? The streets are not safe anymore." Her eyebrows became bunched in worry. I bit my lip and turned to face the direction in which Cyrus had come.

"Valérie!" I called loudly, my eyes darting. I began to feel uneasy and I chewed on my lip, frantically scanning the crowd for signs of her.

"Yes, father?" asked a small voice. I felt a tug on my cloak and I turned to look down, Cyrus clinging fervently to my coat, ensuring his own balance.

I saw in the little girl my eyes, clear and blue, penetrating even. Yet against all that was Nasrin's dark skin, and black hair, a very hybrid of our beings.

"Valérie, where were you? I told you to stay close to your brother!" I felt my temper flare now that I was certain of her safety.

"Delano, don't yell at her; she's still so young yet. She can't keep up with Cyrus. He is seven, and she only four. Valérie most likely had trouble keeping up with him. Isn't that correct, my dear Valérie?" Nasrin smiled at Valérie fondly, who had since forsaken my cloak and had hidden herself behind Nasrin's legs.

"That's right," she answered sweetly. There was a voice that I could never truly be angry at. And yet my flaring temper and blood curdling intentions had been laid to rest the day I saw Cyrus open his eyes for the first time. From then on I had sworn off all violence; my children do not deserve to be haunted by the mistakes I made under the Opera.

"Now, are you two ready to go home?" Nasrin asked, looking first at Cyrus, then at Valérie, and finally at me.

"Yes, I'm tired!" Valérie whined, pulling on Nasrin's hand back in the direction we had come.

I looked at Nasrin and she smiled back at me, her hand subconsciously rubbing her stomach. We had both become wary of the consequences that would entail, should we take too many risks during a pregnancy. I still wonder, sometimes, what would have become of that child, should it have been allowed to continue its life. And yet, I shun myself from such thinking, for if that child had survived, it would be another in my arms, not Cyrus.

While we were walking down le Rue de Masque, Valérie looked up at Nasrin, youthful curiosity sparkling in my mirror eyes. "Mother, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it, my dear?" she answered smoothly.

"Why do you wear your hair when we go in the streets? And why does father wear his face?" She looked first at the black wig that hung tight to Nasrin's scalp; and then she turned to me with my skin-colored mask. I touched it subconsciously to ensure it still held fast to my skin.

"Because some people aren't as accepting of us as you are," Nasrin murmured sullenly, running her hand through Valérie's night black hair.

"I don't understand," she whimpered.

"You will when you're older," she assured quietly, meeting my gaze once, to make sure I understood that she meant those words.

"But you don't _need_ them, do you?" Valérie pressed.

"Yes, darling, we do," I piped in, seeing Nasrin shift uncomfortably.

"Well, I don't think you need them," she finished as-a-matter-of-factly.

I saw Nasrin begin to well up with tears and I moved to wipe them away. "Thank you, my dear," she said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Father! I'm sorry! You know I didn't mean to make mommy cry! Right?" Her eyes were frantic and wide and I couldn't help but smile.

"Of course not, Valérie. You just made us very happy is all. Thank you." I ruffled her hair, leaving strands to stick straight up in melee. I noted with faint amusement that Nasrin wasn't too pleased about that.

We just reached the corner of the road when Nasrin stopped, pitching forward and wheezing, her hands held fast to her stomach.

"Mommy!" Valérie cried in alarm, kneeling by her side. She looked positively panicked.

"Sadira!" I said in alarm, putting Cyrus down and kneeling by her side. I let her fall back into my arms and she grabbed my hand, squeezing it to release some pain.

"Delano… dear… it's time… again." She let out a hoarse laugh between ragged gasps.

"All right… all right. Cyrus, keep a close eye on your sister and follow me. I have to make sure your mother gets proper care." I put my hand on her contracting stomach and helped her up, allowing most of her weight to transfer to me. "Sadira… breathe love… breathe."

"What do you think I'm doing?" she shrieked, sweat already beading on her forehead.

"Carriage! Carriage!" I roared by the side of the street, waving my arms in the frantically. Finally, a carriage hailed, stopping in front of me. I grabbed Nasrin and helped her climb into the carriage, urging Cyrus and Valérie after.

"Where to, Monsieur?" the coach asked calmly.

"To the hospital of course!" I spat, holding onto Nasrin's clammy and shaking hand.

"Of course, Monsieur." And the carriage was off, thundering down the cobblestone street. Nasrin bounced dangerously in the seat and I had very strong urges to take over myself. I growled and resigned myself to holding her hand and kissing her face, mumbling reassurances to her while trying to keep the children calm.

"The hospital, Monsieur," the coach muttered as the carriage came to a sudden halt.

I dropped a few coins into the coach's seat and ushered everyone out and into the hospital. Valérie was frantic and near tears; I don't blame her. It was frightening to see someone you love in so much pain. Only, the joy that comes after is unsurpassable, and I knew Nasrin felt the same.

"Get a doctor! We need a doctor!" I bellowed, alerting everyone within earshot.

A nurse immediately ran to my side, taking Nasrin from my arms and leading her into a birthing room. "We have a child being delivered! Move aside!"

I held Cyrus and Valérie in my arms and rushed them into the room, sitting them beside Nasrin while I stood on the other side. The nurse laid her down and spread her legs while Nasrin squeezed her eyes tightly, gasping for air as her body went through spasms.

"Monsieur, we will take your children into the next room. I will have a nurse look after them." The nurse led the screaming children into another room, wiping the tears from their eyes as she closed the door behind them. She ran back and positioned herself between Nasrin's legs.

"You would hope that by the third time it would be less painful!" she roared.

"Unfortunately, no," the nurse said. "All right, let us see how we are doing." She peered up Nasrin's skirt and nodded approvingly. "I can see the head. Push, dear, you must push."

"I AM PUSHING!" she bellowed before breathing in and pushing again, her face scarlet with effort.

I stood helplessly beside her and wiped the sweat from her face, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement. I hated that there was nothing more I could do and I gritted my teeth.

"Dear, we're almost there, just one more good one." The nurse's calm voice soothed me more than her, for she breathed in once and pushed, her face contorted with effort. Suddenly, she cried out and I grabbed her, holding her in my arms.

A loud screeching cry resounded through the room and once again I found myself with tears. I knew the noise of a new child and I began showering Nasrin's face with kisses.

"Very well done, my love. Beautifully well done," I cooed in her ear as she panted and shook. I pressed my forehead to hers and she kissed me softly, panting in my mouth.

I moved from her and looked at the new infant, still bloody from the womb. I found myself smiling. This was far more beautiful than any aria I or anyone could possibly compose. This creation was of my blood, my soul. Me. And Nasrin as well. A child, I had never known, could be so unbelievably loved even before it had opened its eyes.

"How is it?" I asked, standing behind the nurse, who had since finished cleaning the infant off.

"It's a boy. A healthy baby boy… but for…"

"But for what?" Nasrin asked immediately, straining to raise her head to see what I had feared.

"Let me see him," I implored, taking the bawling infant from the nurse's arms. As I peered down at my little son, my eyes widened. Now that the blood had been cleaned away, my child looked much different.

"Delano, what's wrong?" Nasrin asked frantically, her voice sharp with fright.

"He… he looks like me," I answered dumbly.

"Dear, that's wonderful," she cooed, the look in her eyes softening.

"He looks like me down to my ears, my hair… and my face." I touched my mask again, running my finger over its deceptively smooth surface and cursing what lay beneath.

Nasrin opened her arms. "Let me see him." Her arms began to shake. I hurried to her side and presented her with the trembling baby. I pressed my head sorrowfully against hers.

_You could only delay the inevitable, Erik; you could never defeat fate. One of your children was bound to bear the brand of the Devil's Child. Now look what you have brought upon your family, you terrible, repulsive ogre!_ The voice of despair jeered and taunted me in my head, sending me careening into despairing thoughts.

"Delano." Nasrin's ragged voice broke the spell that had consumed me.

"What is it, my dear?" I answered miserably.

"He is beautiful," she answered calmly, looking down at him with glassy eyes. "Nurse, bring my children here. I want them to see their new brother."

Immediately, the nurse threw open the door, allowing our children to burst forth, fighting over who would see him first. As soon as they both were stilled, they gazed upon the infant, now serene with slumber. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after being put in Nasrin's arms. I leaned down and kissed her gently again and again, unable to cease my affection.

"Ew, father! Stop it!" Cyrus protested. I sheepishly pulled away, looking into Nasrin's smiling eyes.

"Cyrus, you should be happy that we kiss each other instead of quarrel," Nasrin cooed, ruffling Cyrus's hair as he touched the infant's little hand.

"But you do quarrel," Valérie pointed out, keen as always.

"Well, yes," I interjected. "We do. But they never amount to anything serious."

"Pardon me for interrupting," the nurse quietly said, bowing her head once. My whole family turned to her, and I stepped forward.

"Not at all."

"Monsieur, if I may see you for a moment." She walked into the back room; I followed her quietly, nodding reassuringly at Nasrin, who in turn would comfort the children.

"Yes, Madame. What is the matter? Is something wrong with my son?"

"No, Monsieur. However, you seem to think there is. If it is not too bold to say, may I say something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Your wife is right Monsieur; he is a beautiful boy." She smiled warmly. "He will grow up to be quite handsome." Did she not understand? Did she not see what I saw?

"But… his face…" I began.

"What of it? You say you have the same face beneath that mask, but you have a lovely young wife and three beautiful children. If your new son grows to be as prosperous as you are, I believe that is a blessing, if you don't mind me saying so." She flushed and bowed again, an amiable smile danced across her chapped lips.

"Thank you, Madame. Is that all you wished to tell me?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at Nasrin, who seemed to grow more uneasy by the minute. As usual, she was conjecturing the worst.

"No, Monsieur. I also wanted to ask you for your family's and his name. I was filling out the birth certificate and I know neither your family's nor your baby's name."

"I am Monsieur Delano Morel; my wife is Sadira. As for the name of our child, will you allow me to confer with her?" I moved towards the door.

"Yes, of course. Please let me know when you are ready, and I shall record it." She bowed and walked out of the room, myself close in tail.

"Delano, is everything all right?" Nasrin asked, her gaze burning into me.

"Yes, we just need a name for the baby is all." I walked to her side and pressed my head against hers; we both gazed down at the sleeping infant, my mark branded on the right side of his face. I wondered to myself if I looked that way when I slept after birth. Why did this nurse find him beautiful but my mother did not see me in that light?

The children began making a din, throwing out names that could only belong to an imaginary friend. I found myself laughing quietly at their idolizing youthful suggestions. But at once, Nasrin's shaky voice rose above theirs.

"His name will be Erik," she proclaimed, her eyes slightly drifting in my direction.

I squeezed her hand discreetly as the nurse wrote it down. She pressed the child to her chest and leaned back, sleep imminent in the way her eyes fluttered.

"Cyrus, Valérie, come with me. Your mother needs some well deserved rest." As they walked around to my side, I kissed Nasrin on the forehead, mumbling, "Beautifully well done, my love. Sleep now; you know I will be here when you awaken."

She sighed as the nurse took Erik to be measured. "The children too," she commanded softly.

"Yes, of course." My voice lowered to a barely audible whisper as I whispered in her ear, "Sleep well, my little Fire Rose."

As she fell asleep, a smile capered across her face. Quietly, I led Cyrus and Valérie outside, feeling a demon being exercised out of me as my son's face flashed into my mind.

I had even forgotten what had prevented me from seeing such beauty before today. And now, I was quite content standing in the warm sunlight, with two of my children holding onto me. That, no matter what happened later on, would never change.

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! Mwa!**

**Jen Lennon**: Thanks for your review and here is your update! Hope you like it!

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**Victorian Dream**: LOL I am a firstborn as well, so I know where you're coming from. And yes, you're right. But just the prospect that your child _died_ is very upsetting to any parent. However, you are right; as you read, there is plenty more where that came from. XD! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: LOL yes, they do eventually. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

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**The Psychotic One**: AWWW! Poor TPO! I hope you're all right to read this chapter! It's much happier! Yes indeed. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: Sorry Vi-vi-kins! (glomp) And Erik and Nasrin appreciated your extra hug, that they did. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: AW! Poor Sunbeam! (huggle) And you know the struggle eventually will end. That's the beauty of going to school with me and hearing the whole plot and secrets. So WOOT FOR SUNBEAM! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

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**tink8812**: All right, if I'm on, check my AIM screen name (It's in my profile) and if I'm on, say hello. I'd love to chat. Keep in mind that I won't always be able to stay on very long, but I'll talk to you while I'm on. Thanks for your review and here is your update!


	33. The End of Part One

"_Let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music_

_That I write . . ._

_The power of the music of the night . . ._" –Music of the Night

The End of Part One

Nasrin sat back in her rocking chair, almost lulled to sleep by its rhythmic motion. Her blue green eyes were still bright, but time had changed her. Her body after four pregnancies was not as slender as it had been before, however her eyes retained a simplistic youth, contrasting the worn look branded on her face. She had forced her wig to be partially dyed gray, not wanting to make it obvious that she concealed a hideous distortion.

Erik, who now aged at fifty-one, sat back in his chair and watched his thirty-five year old wife. His hair was still sleeked back to his neck, and only a few stripes of gray colored his already fair hair.

They had gathered all of their children to them, and now, they all sat on a Persian rug before the two chairs. Cyrus, who was now seventeen, held the hand of his bride, who had also been requested to attend.

"Should we start?" Erik asked. His blue eyes focused fondly on Nasrin.

"Yes," she replied.

"Now, this lesson, is a lesson that no one but your parents could ever teach you," Erik began, surveying his children, as well as Cyrus's bride. "No school will teach it as part of the curriculum, and no one is truly aware of it but your mother and I… as well as some who we have forsaken for you."

Valérie looked up at Nasrin, her bright blue eyes brilliant against her dark skin. "What subject is it? Is it math?"

Nasrin smiled. "No my dear. This is a lesson in music. We are going to introduce you to the most brilliant type of music of all. It is secret and unknown except for your father and I. Now, we are passing its mysteries onto you as our legacy, in hopes that you will pass it on to your children, and so on, and so forth." She looked up at the glimmering silver moon against the indigo canvas sky, dotted with white stars.

"We are going to teach you now, for it will take you many years to learn. I created it in my youth, and your mother helped me reach its most powerful, passionate depths." Erik's mind quickly flashed to Christine, and how she had truly sang his music, perfecting it. But Nasrin . . . Nasrin had helped him become it.

"Why don't you just send us off to an academy to learn this music?" Erika asked, her thick mane of black hair gleaming blue in the moonlight.

"You cannot learn this type of music in an academy," Erik replied, sounding rather offended. "It is a type of music that comes from the darkest confines of the soul and heart. It is weaved with torrid passion and dark desire." He became energetic as he spoke of it with the same fervid emotions.

"Ew," the little Erik said, crinkling his nose, the distortion on the right side of his face exposed for all to see.

"You won't think it is so disgusting when you have a lady in mind," Cyrus pointed out, ruffling his brother's hair affectionately. Erik didn't waste time in pouncing on his brother.

"Scuffling can wait, boys. This is very important." Nasrin's stern voice froze the blood in the boys' veins. They obediently ceased and stared submissively up at their parents, who had since taken each other's hand.

"So, you have enticed us," Valérie piped up from the back, her pale pink lips curved into an alluring smile. "What is the music called? Classical? Baroque?"

"No, no, for God's sake no," Erik said disgusted, waving his hand as if to fan the air clean of such an atrocious statement.

"No," Nasrin cooed, pressing her head against Erik's. "I am sure you will become engrossed in it once we have taught it to you."

Erik smiled warmly, his gaze bright with vigor. "Yes, today your mother and I will begin to teach to you the passion, the power, and the dark awakening that is . . . the music of the night."

In the eye of the bright, peering moon, the young Erik smiled, his eyes aglow with a fire only matched by his father.

-The End?

**Shade: Nope guys, it's not the end; just the end of _this_ story. The sequel: Diluted Blood will be posted in a little bit, so don't take me off your author alert list yet… if I'm even there, lol. That story will be the last story concerning our 'little Fire Rose', who coincidentally, isn't so little anymore. O.o; Anyway, I hope you liked this 'ending' and I hope you'll continue through the second story. For now, review! I want to hear your predictions! Until next time!**

'**Your obedient servant, and angel' –Shade Sunslayer**

**Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**Jen Lennon**: LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**harem98**: (gives tissues) It'll be okay. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

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**Terpsichore314**: Thanks… and good that you like him! That will be important in the sequal. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Thank you, but no, this was the 'last' chapter. Then there's the sequel, which I'll post in a bit. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**LadyOfLegends**: (gives tissues) I know! HUGH! YOU MUST STAY THE PHANTOM! PLEEEEEASE! (for those who don't know, Hugh Panaro is going to play Lestat in the musical called Lestat, which will come to Broadway in March.) But we'll get tickets Sunbeam! WE MUST! And he'll be on the original soundtrack for it… so YAY! And of course, we must judge the new Phantom… he'd better be good, or else! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**VictorianDream**: Yessum, that's part of the reason a sequel is on the way. (wink wink) I hope this was sufficient for now. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**darklady5289**: Yes, I agree. Well, we shall see later, won't we? Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**tink8812**: LOL, thanks. Could I bother you for one more, lol? Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**AngelOfTheNight**: Yes, they have babies, LOL. (gives tissues) Thanks for your review and here is your update!

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**Mlle. Opera Ghost**: Thank you very very much! Wow, you'd reread it? Cool! LOL. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Videociraptor**: XD! I'm sure you could, and I bet you will! And when you do, GUESS WHO WILL BE THERE IN SOME CYBER OR OTHER WAY! Shadie-poo! (celebration) WOOT! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Mrs. Gerard Butler**: LOL, I knew what you meant. So now, we'll see how little Erik turns out as opposed to his father. The irony will be rather amusing I think. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**DragonheartRAB**: Thanks so much! Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**naomipoe**: LOL, thanks, I wish so too. And I appreciate it muchly. Thanks for your review and here is your update!

**The Psychotic One**: LOL, well here you go! Presented in all its fluff-ness. (which I don't write that much, so YAY!) Suzaku! I love your hair! Anyway, thanks for your review and here is your update!

**Shade: Well, see you guys in Diluted Blood if you choose to stick around. Much love and yayness to you all! (waves)**


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